A Boy Named Ray
by CJ Bacon
Summary: What was Ray Stantz like as a boy? Read on down to find out...
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: This story would not have been possible without Fritz Buagh's incredible timeline, the RGB episode "Look Homeward Ray", Sheila Paulson, and Benjamin King for his input.  
  
Dedicated to the memory of Jeramy Burnsed.  
  
THE PRESENT. The water dripped down Ray's nose as he clutched his particle thrower tightly in both hands. His visor was hanging slightly askew from his head. Smoke was billowing from the thrower.  
  
He was counting the seconds between the rushing water drain behind him, the dripping reverberating all around the alley. He was breathing heavily due to the broken ribs that he was suffering from.  
  
All around him, he saw pain; his fellow Ghostbusters, defeated, in very much the same way Deathstroke the Terminator killed the Teen Titans. Egon, the smartest of them all, knocked out behind a garbage can, blood flowing from a wound he'd received to his head. Near Ray's boots, he could see the broken remains of Egon's glasses. He could see Peter struggling against his supernatural restraints, his eyes moving in horror as he saw the scene play out before him. And Ray did not want to look at Winston's smoking body. All he hoped was that, when this was over, he would take Winston up on that chess game. If it would be over.  
  
"Are you quite done, Raymond?"  
  
The voice from the other end of the alley brought Ray back to reality. He looked into his longtime enemy's eyes, and could see his own hatred staring back at him. If this was what it had to come to, Ray thought, then let it be.  
  
"I'm just getting warmed up, pal", Ray said, charging his pack. Despite the darkness, he swore he could feel the shadow smiling at him.  
  
"Good. I suppose this is, for one of us, where it all ends, at least."  
  
"Shut up, Malvolio", Ray said gritting his teeth. "Either you disappear back into the nether world you came from, or prepare to be killed."  
  
"Don't kid yourself with false hopes Raymond. You probably should have done that years ago, instead of letting this moment happen before you." Malvolio flew up in the air, the water splashing direction, as all around and made a great swoop down towards Ray's face became lighted by the fire of his proton pack.  
  
THE PAST: MORRISVILLE, NEW YORK 1970  
  
Ray could not run any farther. His little legs had carried him as far as he could go, and that was at Boo's Comics and Stories store. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Ray looked back and hoped Alan's gang was far behind him. There was no chance, but it was worth one anyway. He saw one of the taller kids in the gang searching for him down the street. Ray, as quietly as possible, opened the door to the store and slipped inside before the tall one looked down this way. "I take it Master Favish's engaging in his favorite sport, right Mister Stantz?" The proprietor, Henry Radley, nicknamed "Boo" because of his penchant for the bizarre by the kids in the neighborhood, did not even bother to look up from his newspaper, which startled Ray as he thought Boo was not paying attention to him.  
  
"That's right Mr. Radley", Ray said breathlessly. Putting down his paper, Boo went over to the lemonade/tea setup he had behind the counter and poured Ray a cup and handed it to him. After four cups Ray sat down on a stool nearby.  
  
"Why me? That's all I want to know. Why does Favish feel to pick on me? I mean, there's other kids out at the school he could bully, but."  
  
"He finds you easy game", Boo said beginning to look back at his paper.  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Raymond, I have not been a child for a long time to answer that. Truly, have you thought about standing up to him? Maybe showing him that you are not just a butterball?"  
  
"If I did, he'd pulverize me. You weren't there when he knocked out an eighth grader with only one punch! Imagine what he'd do to me!"  
  
"I don't want to. All I want to say is that you better find a hiding spot as he is about to come here."  
  
Sure enough, Alan Favish was poking his wolf face through the window with two members of his gang. He licked his lips hungrily and grinned as he saw Ray in there.  
  
"There's a backdoor you can use", Boo said and went back to reading his newspaper.  
  
"Thanks Mr. Radley", Ray called out as he ran to the back of the store (past the nudie magazines which he did not take the time to glance at) and saw the big black door. The doorknob felt cold in his hand as he turned it and heard the click. The next moment, he thought, he would be free and would only need about two more blocks before he was home.  
  
Standing there, on the backstoop of the door, was the tall boy who had been looking for Ray moments earlier. He was grinning.  
  
"Al told me you would try to take this way out", he said and grabbed Ray by his shirt and closed the door.  
  
The boy's grip was rock hard, as Ray discovered. Every which way he struggled, he could feel the air beginning to be closed off. Behind him, he heard very slow footsteps. He didn't have to look behind him to know who they belonged to. In the next few moments, the voice would tell him that.  
  
"You should try out for the track team Francine", Favish said, getting close enough to Ray's face where he could smell rotting onions on his breath. Ray heard the other boy, the shorter one, sniggering.  
  
"L-listen Alan, if it's about Elaine, all we were doing was w-w-we were talking about the assignment Mrs. Reynolds gave us." The short boy began imitating Ray's blubbering.  
  
"Shut up Stantz", Favish said and nodded to the tall boy to let Ray go. "You think that because you and my girlfriend are in the same class means you can go behind my back and try to flirt with her? Not gonna happen pal."  
  
Ray knew what was going to happen next: Favish was going to beat him up. That was not unusual. Favish beat up a lot of kids in the fourth grade, just that Ray was always his favorite punching bag.  
  
"So Francine, how do you want it? In the gut, eyes, the face, or do I split your nose right down the middle?"  
  
Ray did what he'd seen done on a nature show his aunt had let him watch. Not answering Favish, Ray kicked him in the knee and pushed the taller boy to the ground. He did not get far. His shoelaces tripped him up and fell on the concrete hard. He could feel his palms and knew that by morning they would be as tenderized as meat.  
  
Favish and the two boys looked down at Ray and all three of them were not smiling. "Now, you'll get twice the beating faggot", Favish said. And like three hungry hawks spotting their dying prey, all three boys swooped down upon Ray.  
  
. . .  
  
"Oh my goodness, Raymond! what happened?" Ray's mother nearly broke the George Washington plate that she had been washing and quickly went to Ray, who had just straggled inside the house. His shirt was all torn, the arm missing; he was bleeding from both nostrils, which went nicely with his two black eyes. He was not wearing his new sneakers that he had gotten for Christmas. There were remnants of garbage in his tussled hair. Blood was also trickling from his black and blue mouth.  
  
Taking a wet napkin, Mrs. Stantz began wiping Ray's face of the blood and dirt.  
  
"What happened?" she repeated again, taking Ray's shirt off him.  
  
"Alan Favish and his gang of idiots happened mom", Ray said solemnly. Tears were streaming down his face, though he tried choking them back. His mother cooed and said:  
  
"It'll be alright sweetie. I'll call Mrs. Favish and we'll see if we can get your shoes back. Okay?"  
  
Ray didn't want to say it, but there was no way to get his shoes back. Favish, star of the school softball team, pitched them up to the highest telephone wire in the city, which they had wrapped themselves around.  
  
"Now, you go up to your room and get changed and take your bath. Dinner will be ready when you finish." She hugged him tightly, as if making sure that Ray would disappear if she let go. Finally letting go of him, she laid Ray's ruined shirt on the table and went back to washing the dishes. As Ray was trumping up the stairs, she said, "Oh, the new issue of Captain Steel is on your bed."  
  
That makes the whole thing worth it, Ray thought in his head. As he reached his bedroom door, he could hear the cawing of Theodore Roosevelt. He was hungry. He had to chuckle to himself as he remembered that his mother hated the pets that he would bring in. The last one, a stray cat, turned out to not be a cat at all, but really a large sewer rat that Ray had mistaken for one. He got the worst spanking of his life that day by his father.  
  
He passed by his brother Carl's room. No use getting any moral support there, even if Carl bothered to look up from whatever the heck he was doing. He peeked inside and saw him jamming out on some Iron Maiden song he didn't know the words to.  
  
Next he passed Jean's room, which was closed. Another typical occurrence in the house. Just to be sure, he put his ear against the door, and could swear that he heard Barney. He looked up at the clock that hung between the two rooms: It was about forty-five minutes past four, meaning that his father would be home soon. He could only think of the lecture he would get in the next fifteen minutes.  
  
Getting into his room, Theodore Roosevelt jumped a little bit before ruffling its feathers, his way that he recognized Ray. Pulling out a drawer, Ray drew out some birdseed and stuck his hand inside the cage, letting Teddy eat out of his hand.  
  
"Sorry, Ted", he said. "I'm just not in a good mood today." After feeding his bird, Ray flopped on his bed, dust shooting out from the bottom. Got to clean that later, he thought.  
  
He pulled out the issue of Captain Steel that his mom had placed there and immediately opened it. Apparently, Cap was fighting off a brand new villain, the Eggmen, who were causing much chaos in his city.  
  
Ray did not realize how much time had passed when he heard his father's key turn in the door. "Hey Stantz family! I'm home!"  
  
Ray quickly changed his clothes and put on another pair of shoes. Going downstairs, he hoped that he could make it back up without having to look his father in the eye.  
  
"Hey dad", he said but the words were barely out of his mouth when his father looked at his face.  
  
"Gosh, Ray, what happened?" he asked, wearing the same expression as his wife but with a bit of amusement in his voice.  
  
Ray, too, had chuckle to himself about it. "I got into a fight with Alan Favish today", he said.  
  
"Favish?" Dr. Stantz looked at his wife. "As in 'Big Ed' Favish at the shoe store?"  
  
"The same", Mrs. Stantz said looking down. Dr. Stantz and Ray could not help but laugh at this, which seemed to annoy Mrs. Stantz.  
  
"I don't see what is funny about this David!" she said. "Our son's shoes were stolen by that Favish boy and all you can do is laugh about it!"  
  
"Aw honey", Ray's father said, finally taking off his coat. "It gave Ray an experience here and he did not get his shoes stolen." Mrs. Stantz looked at her husband as if he had a monkey on his head.  
  
"What do you mean?" From his coat pocket, Dr. Stantz pulled out a small pair of sneakers, the strings slightly stretched out and the tongue hanging lopsidedly, a relic of when Favish and his gang had a hard time pulling them off of Ray's feet.  
  
Ray's eyes widened with disbelief. He couldn't say anything except a hearty "Thanks!"  
  
"Saw them hanging when I stopped at the light downtown. Figured they'd be yours, as Boo Radley said you might've them taking. He was wondering why you were walking past his store barefoot."  
  
As Ray was rushing back upstairs, Carl walked down fully dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans.  
  
"Hey pop", he said to his father, walked past him and was only able to grab the doorknob before his father grabbed his wrist.  
  
"Just where do you think your going mister?"  
  
"Over to Paulie's place. He's got a Dungeons and Dragons game going on and invited me to join in."  
  
"Not after your last report card, kiddo", Dr. Stantz said. Carl looked at him as in utter disbelief.  
  
"Dad, that was just a slow month, I was in a valley at that time. My grades'll be better next time."  
  
"You're right about one thing", his father said. "Those grades will be better. But not next time, they will be this time."  
  
"Your father's right, Carl", his mother said. "We're only looking out for your best interests." Carl's eyes literally shot daggers at his mother as they shifted.  
  
"Not my interests", Carl said turning his back on his parents and marching towards the stairs. "Ray's interests."  
  
About halfway in the upstairs hallway, Carl saw Ray standing in the dark, leaning against the wall. He didn't need to be told that Ray knew exactly what had just happened. To make things worse for him, he saw Jean quickly closing her room door, her head present for one brief moment.  
  
Ray bit his lip. "Carl, I'm sorry if Mom and Dad won't let you go over to Paul's house if it'll make you feel better." Carl shot his brother a nasty look composed of both hatred and spite.  
  
"I wasn't going over to Paul's house for some fruity Dungeons and Dragons", he said coldly. "And I'll thank you for not butting into my business you little snot."  
  
Ray's eyes widened with shock. He said:  
  
"I was just trying to help."  
  
"You can help by not existing." With that, Carl slammed the door in his brother's face, leaving a bewildered Ray standing there scratching his head. At his left side, he noticed that Jean was again peeping out of her room, the television still on and illuminating her room with blue overtones.  
  
"You know it's your fault that Carl's mad", she said. Ray looked at her.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"He thinks that Mommy and Daddy love you more than they do him, and he's the older brother. And, and I believe him!"  
  
Ray looked absolutely shocked at this. "How can you say that? I don't do anything to have Mom and Pop love me more than you guys."  
  
"Whenever you come home with a 'C' grade, they don't yell at you like they do Carl. And they listened to your Captain Steel movie idea than they did about me losing one of my teeth."  
  
Ray thought for a few moments. "Let's face it Jeannie, your tooth wasn't all that interesting to begin with." Despite the darkness, Ray could see that Jean was on the verge of crying.  
  
"I HATE YOU!" she screamed and slammed the door in the same way that Carl had done.  
  
"Is everything all right?" Ray's mother called from downstairs. No, Ray thought, everything's not all right, but he answered heartily, "Yes ma'am", and then hung his head down and went to his room.  
  
. . .  
  
It was about a quarter past eight when Ray raised his window. He hoped his parents were busy watching WPIX News with some young reporter known as Cynthia Crawford. They should, he thought, as Rabbi Eschew was speaking that night with comedian Jeff Harding about ethnic humor. Ray didn't want to watch and told his parents he was going to finish compiling the ultimate Captain Steel fact list, which was a lie.  
  
The window creaked eerily, making Ray wish these things would happen during the day. He hoped against hope that his parents, Jean, and Carl did not hear that. He looked down and hesitated for a few moments. It was not the five foot drop that bothered him so much; it was the fact his own conscience was tearing him apart. To do what he was planning to do, he would have to leave his bike behind. He expected he'd have to come up with a concrete excuse for bicycling this late at night.  
  
Sucking it up, he stuck one foot out the window. Then the other. Taking his backpack up, he slung it upon his back (he swayed somewhat by the speed) and climbed down the rosebush fence his mother had planted years earlier. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally touched ground and ducked somewhat underneath the living room window. He almost didn't want to run away, seeing his parents there, laughing at Harding's "mad rabbi" jokes and wanted to climb back up the rose fence. But then he saw Jean sitting there between, giggling so hard that she was exposing her two lost front teeth that she had wanted to tell their parents so much about. If he went back in there, he thought, he'd be proving her right about him being their favorite. He shook his head solemnly and walked down their driveway and into the darkness of their neighborhood.  
  
(Where are you going to go?) Ray's conscience asked. It was perhaps a good question that he hadn't bothered to ask himself. Who could he possibly go to for a place to stay? He didn't have too many friends; Favish had seen to that with great evil pleasure. The only relative he could think of going to was his Uncle Andrew, whom he'd never seen but often wrote letters to every chance he got. Andrew Macmillan had offered Ray's family many chances to come visit him, but his brother-in-law's practice always got in the way. Ray's hopes were dashed when he realized that a plane ticket to Scotland would cost and continued walking the street like a homeless unfortunate.  
  
He began thinking of his Aunt Lois, his father's sister, and her house in the city thirty miles away. He probably wouldn't get there until tomorrow afternoon by foot, and he didn't even have enough for cab fare. But, as that was the only option available, he knew that there was no one to stop him from pursuing it.  
  
"Ray?"  
  
Ray jumped for a second, and didn't know who had said his name. Flashing his light into the voice's direction, he said:  
  
"Um, can you come into the light just a little bit?"  
  
"Sure." Ray was relieved at whom it was and his heart kind of skipped a little. Elaine Fuhrman lived a little more than a few blocks from Ray and was surprised to see him walking this late at night. She had been in the process of seeing how he was, as she had heard from her father that he and Dr. Stantz had gotten a pair of Converse All-Star sneakers from the top of a telephone pole. Little doubt as to whom they belonged to.  
  
In her sweet natured tone of voice, she said, "Can you watch it with the light a little? It's kind of blinding."  
  
"Oh yeah", Ray said and quickly shut it off. They stood there grinning at each other for a little more than a minute, which to Ray seemed like an eternity. He glanced behind himself, hoping Favish wasn't strolling up and seeing him and Elaine staring at each other.  
  
"Don't worry", she said smoothly. "Alan's grounded because of his report card and can't get out of his house. Plus you know how his dad is."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Hey, he really got you good this time, didn't he?"  
  
"What? Oh, yeah", Ray said almost forgetting his black eyes, which were now turning a sort of purplish color. "You should've seen me earlier. I looked like I got into a fight with one of Clyde Beatty's animals and lost."  
  
Elaine giggled, and then asked, "So, why are you out here this late?" Ray knew why he was out there, but with the moon out in full, the crickets chirping, and Elaine standing there wearing her blue parka, he said:  
  
"I don't know." Elaine looked at him weirdly and said, "Okay" and was about to turn back into the house when Ray's senses finally kicked in.  
  
"Hey", he said, "I'm just walking around."  
  
"With a full backpack?"  
  
"Helps the back my dad says. Anyway, I was just walking around and since you were on your way to my house anyway, do you want to walk with me."  
  
Elaine thought for a second then smiled. "Sure", she said and zipped up her parka.  
  
For a few minutes, the two did not say anything of interest. Ray started off by getting a small tutoring in the size of the African coast. Ray wasn't listening, as they rounded Boo's comic's store. He was concentrating on what he could say to her that won't seem as though he were a lobotomized chimp.  
  
Finally, after hearing that the Ivory Coast was founded by Prince Henry the Navigator and explored numerous times by other explorers like Columbus and Ponce De Leon, Ray said:  
  
"So why do you like Favish?"  
  
If it hadn't been for the fact that there was music playing across from Mezzmer's, the silence could have killed Ray. For a moment, he noticed that the look on Elaine's face indicated that she was on the verge of tears. But, being her nature, she just smiled. To make the situation slightly less tense than it already was, Ray thought quickly.  
  
"I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, it's alright. I was just wondering."  
  
"No, it's alright", she said. Ray could see the tears shimmering on her face. He could feel the guilt welling up inside of him and prayed for lightening to strike at that same precise moment.  
  
"Aw geez, I just feel so bad about asking you that."  
  
"No, really, it's okay. I get asked that a lot and I." she couldn't finish off her sentence. For a moment, it sounded like crashing garbage cans were coming out of her throat.  
  
"What was that?" Ray asked loudly and looked over to the alley behind Boo's. He could see four shadows dancing against the wall. The smaller one getting pushed around he recognized from many sunsets he spent here.  
  
"Boo's in trouble," he told Elaine and the same thought also registered in her brain.  
  
"What can we do?" she asked. Ray didn't answer. He didn't even know what they could do to help Boo.  
  
He to the edge of the alley wall and watched in horror at what was happening. Boo Radley was not just getting pushed around. He was getting the spit knocked out of him by three figures dressed in black sweatshirts and jeans .They wore black masks with the mouth part cut out. They were shouting and laughing at Boo.  
  
"All we asked old man was for a little money, just to help us youths out", one of them said, slamming his fist against Boo's jaw that should have broken it.  
  
"Yeah, what about helping your fellow man", another said and swung the Louisville Slugger he had in his hand into Boo's stomach. When he was doubled over, the boy was raising the bat, getting ready to break it across Boo's back.  
  
Ray didn't know why he did what he next. He could feel the blood boiling inside of him at the sight of these punks beating up on Boo, the neighborhood good guy. He couldn't stand it any longer.  
  
Running from his safe position, Ray slammed into the guy with the raised bat with his shoulder, running the guy into the wall. The bat flew out of his hands.  
  
"Why you little punk", the third one said and grabbed Ray by the collar and raised his left hand to smack him. Ray expected to see stars like he'd never seen before. But the guy's eyes suddenly rolled into his head at it snapped forward. He let go of Ray and fell to the ground with a thud.  
  
"You can thank me later", Elaine said brushing off her ripped stocking. Ray was glad he wasn't the only one who cared. But he didn't have time to say it, as he felt a throbbing pain occurring on the side of his head. The one who had been punching Boo had now turned his attention towards Ray.  
  
"Stay out of this, kid", the guy said. Still conscious, Ray could not believe whose voice it was.  
  
"Carl?" he said. The boy in the mask sort of looked at Ray and again raised his fist. But it was caught by another hand. The boy turned in horror as another fist dug deep in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.  
  
"Beatin' up kids like you run the country, what's the matter with you?" Looking up, his head splitting, Ray noticed how frightening Boo looked standing over the boy. Behind Boo, Ray saw the one he'd slammed into the wall beginning to stir. Seeing his friends beaten, this one moved his hand slowly towards his weapon, so he could help even the odds just a little bit. He wavered a little getting up, needing the aid of the bat, but getting to his feet raised the bat and began moving towards Boo.  
  
"Look out Mr. Radley!" Ray shouted. Boo turned around at the split second when the boy swung the bat at his head, missing him by several inches. Like he'd done with the boy's partners, Boo punched the boy in stomach, and then planted an uppercut on his chin, fully knocking the boy out.  
  
Breathing heavily, Boo turned to Ray and Elaine. "Are you kids alright?" he asked.  
  
Elaine helped Ray up. His head was throbbing. "Yeah", he said. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine. Would you kids like some tea?" Elaine and Ray looked at him strangely. The man had nearly been killed, and then beat his attackers brutally, and now here he was playing things off like they never happened. Boo did show signs of his beating: he was bleeding from one side of his mouth and his neat powder blue shirt was filthy. But he was smiling, which was something Ray did not get.  
  
"I guess", Ray said.  
  
. . . .  
  
"That's right dad", Elaine said over Boo's telephone. "Three boys in black masks and clothes. They seemed like they were going up Main Street. Okay? You'll be here in a minute? Alright. Bye."  
  
She turned to Ray, who was nursing his headache with some of the ice Boo keeps in his cooler, and to Boo who was serving up some tea. "Dad said he'll put an APB on the guys who tried to rob you", she said. Looking at Ray, she also added:  
  
"I also told them to look for your brother Ray." Ray looked up at her and for the second time that night wished he'd died.  
  
"I only thought it sounded like Carl", he said. "I don't know if it was him for sure. I thought it sounded like him."  
  
"But you don't know if it wasn't", she said. "I mean, he's always been a bit on the.bad apple side of things. Like Alan."  
  
Ray could not help but grin toothily, as Boo replaced the icepack on his head with a fresh one. Outside, he heard a car's tires screech in the road and the familiar blue and red strobe lights of a police car. Captain Fuhrman had just arrived. Standing almost as tall as the door, Captain Fuhrman looked like your typical square-jawed cop who will tear you a new hole at the drop of a hat. Ray had met Fuhrman many times, as he was an old friend of his father's. On those occasions, he'd been pleasant, though had a quiet sense of menace about him. Now, all that menace seemed to be apparent.  
  
Looking over in Elaine's direction first, he said, "Are you alright Elaine?"  
  
"Yeah dad, I'm okay."  
  
"They didn't try to touch you did they?"  
  
"No dad." Captain Fuhrman went over to his daughter and inspected her to be sure. When he was satisfied that she was okay, he turned to Ray.  
  
"Young Stantz, are okay?"  
  
"Yes sir." Ray could see the cold steel reserve in his eyes. It kind of made him look like Slim Pickens.  
  
"I know the question I may ask you is somewhat is embarrassing, but was your brother involved in this in anyway?"  
  
Straight to the point, Ray thought. Just like Dick Tracy. Before Ray could answer, Boo put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I think these kids have been through enough tonight, Captain," he said softly. "Let them rest." Captain Fuhrman shook his head.  
  
"This can't wait, Radley, and you know that. You were almost killed tonight. The sooner we catch these punks, the better off we'll all sleep." Shaking his head again, he said to Elaine and Ray:  
  
"Come kids, I'll take you both home." As Ray was beginning to walk out of the building, Boo stopped him.  
  
"If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to talk to Ray for a few moments. It won't take long." Eyeing him suspiciously, Captain Fuhrman nodded and walked outside. Boo closed the door behind him and turned to Ray.  
  
"Raymond, what you did tonight was something I must congratulate you upon", he said. Ray looked at him weirdly.  
  
"You not only put yourself at the greater risk by being there, but also by helping me."  
  
"I just couldn't stand there and do nothing while they were trying to hurt you", Ray said, nearly crying. Boo smiled warmly and handed him a tissue.  
  
"I understand all that. You certainly have a lot of heart Ray, something I have not had in a long time."  
  
"What do you mean sir?" Boo looked beyond Ray for a few moments and had a distant look in his eyes.  
  
"You'll understand what I mean when you grow as old as I am", he said. He turned his back on Ray and went to his desk. Ray noticed that he was beginning to pull out shelves and scatter papers. He exclaimed in joy when he'd found what he was looking for. Facing Ray again, he wore a half-smile on his face.  
  
"I don't know if I what I am about to do is the right thing. I guess that's something for the Creator to decide for himself. But in any case, here." He handed Ray what looked like pen case. It was bright pink with a metal clasp. As Ray began to flip the clasp up, Boo screeched "NO!" which frightened Ray.  
  
"Don't open it yet", he said taking a breath in. "Not here anyway. Choose a proper time."  
  
"Proper time for what?" Ray asked. But before Boo could answer, Captain Fuhrman honked his car horn.  
  
"You'll know when you most need it", Boo said and shuffled Ray out the door. As Ray climbed into the squad car, Boo looked as it grew distant into the night, then went back into his own store. He then replaced the OPEN with CLOSED. 


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks goes out to Fritz Baugh for his necessary input during a time when I needed help with this part of the epic.  
  
The morning after was slightly chilly. The windows of the Stantz home were covered in frost and dew. New York weather does that a lot. Ray's window was slightly cracked, sunlight beginning to creep through. Wind was also blowing through.  
  
On his bed, Ray was literally out. He had not bothered to dress into his pajamas, instead falling asleep in the same clothes he was wearing. The backpack laid in a small corner of his room, unpacked of its contents.  
  
What startled Ray was not the sunlight, but rather the closing of a car door, then the sudden cranking of an ignition outside of his window. Waking up, he thought the previous night was nothing more than a dream, that he had imagined rescuing Boo Radley from muggers, that he had heard Carl's voice among them, that he had actually been with-and talked to-Elaine Fuhrman. All of that, to him, seemed like a pleasant dream, until, hearing voices from the outside of his window, he swung his head sharply to that direction, causing him to get suddenly dizzy and a throbbing pain like he was being hit with that baseball bat. Getting out his bed, he went towards the window and easily lifted it. He noticed that it did not creak this early in the morning.  
  
Outside, the first thing he noticed was the blue and white colors of the Morrisville Police Department squad cars. There were only two; he recognized one of them belonging to Captain Fuhrman. Both of the strobe lights of the cars were blaring, though the siren was not on.  
  
A sinking feeling began to creep in Ray's stomach as he closed the window and began making his way downstairs. He passed by Jean's room, which was half open, but she was still sleep. Carl's room door was open as well, but his brother was not inside. His bed looked as though it had been slept in, which Ray almost let out a sigh of great relief until he saw, in a pile near Carl's closet, the same black clothes that muggers were wearing. The shirt was torn slightly at the cuff, from when Boo had grabbed the mugger's wrist.  
  
Downstairs, Ray noticed that it was slightly colder than it was upstairs. The door was open halfway, revealing the dim sunlight in the dark house. Opening it, Ray saw his parents standing not too far from the front door. His father, who should have left at least two hours ago, was hugging his mother's shoulder. His head was down. Ray could hear his mother's sobs, and, looking just a little in the distance, he knew why.  
  
Carl was being saddled into the regular squad car, cuffs and all. Ray saw that there were two others in the back, though he could not make out their faces. He noticed how tussled Carl's hair was, and how Carl carried himself. He was sort of hunching over, and Ray remembered that this was the legacy of Boo's power punch. He didn't think he'd hit Carl that hard.  
  
Captain Fuhrman was standing opposite Ray's father. He looked as though he had not bothered to shave that morning. His hat was somewhat lopsided. Kicking a rock into the driveway and watching it skip over into the next yard, he said:  
  
"I'm sorry how this business has come about, David."  
  
Dr. Stantz shook his head. "I just don't understand how this could have happened. When you brought Ray home, I checked to make sure and Carl was in bed sleeping." Carolyn looked at him, as if an idea had struck her.  
  
"Maybe he could have snuck out the window like Ray and snuck back in again." Again, Dr. Stantz shook his head.  
  
"Listen, David, we only have very sparse evidence. If it's any consolation, we don't even know if Carl did do it with those delinquents in there. If it hadn't been for Nick Sanford telling me about his boy coming in late and you know how he taps wires and stuff."  
  
Dr. Stantz laughed half-heartedly. "Yes, I do know. So Franklin gave names?"  
  
"He sung like Julie Andrews, and eloquently. I guess my presence was very intimidating on him, as he stuttered when he said that Jeff Moore and.Carl Stantz were the other two. He could barely talk because his nose was swollen so badly. I'll probably have to have you take a look at him before I run any charges on the lot 'em."  
  
"I'll do it", Dr. Stantz said. "But what happens if Carl is somehow involved in this?" Captain Fuhrman again looked down.  
  
"If found guilty on all charges, Carl could be looking at twenty years in the hoosegow", he said. "But depending on what lawyer you can get, and how Carl delivers his testimony, we can avoid prison and get a necessary punishment."  
  
Mrs. Stantz, who had been quiet during the whole conversation, spoke:  
  
"Like what?" Carolyn asked, her Scottish brogue becoming immediately apparent. A look from both her husband and Captain Fuhrman made her realize what had just happened and she corrected herself in her normal American accent. Ray hadn't heard it all that often, as she'd made a conscious effort to suppress it to "fit in".but the fact that he heard now only made Ray realize just how deeply upset she really was.  
  
"We can send Carl to a boy's home until he is eighteen. Another option to take will be military school."  
  
"Military school?" Ray said loudly. All three adults turned around. Dr. Stantz looked at Ray and smiled falsely.  
  
"Ray, how long have you been standing there?" he asked. His mother went over him and gave him the blanket she had been wearing.  
  
"Long enough, but not too long to know what's going on", he said. Carolyn Stantz bit her lip.  
  
"Ray, you remember those robbers last night at Boo Radley's store?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well, Captain Fuhrman says that Carl might've been involved somewhat." Ray looked over at his brother getting shoved into the squad car like the common felons that he and his father watched on the news.  
  
"What's going to happen to him?" he asked a hint of worry in his voice. The dark looks on his parent's faces told Ray more than they could have.  
  
"Well, I better be getting along downtown", Captain Fuhrman said.  
  
"You don't want to stay for breakfast?" Ray's mother asked Fuhrman. He shook his head.  
  
"No, I have to get downtown and do the usual red tape", he said. "I expect to see either of you down there later today?"  
  
"I-I suppose so", Mrs. Stantz said. She could not get the words out of her mouth. Captain Fuhrman smiled, a look of hope upon his face.  
  
After he had pulled off, Ray and his parents walked back inside their home. For some reason, there was oddness in the way it looked. It was as if it were a mortuary, as the gloom hung over it like a hideous black veil. Outside, rain began to fall.  
  
. . .  
  
Ray piled into the school bus dragging his feet. He rarely took it, his mother usually dropping him and his siblings off at their schools. The bus driver looked at him with annoyance.  
  
"Hey hurry up kid!" he said, closing the doors behind Ray. "I ain't got all day!"  
  
"Sorry sir", Ray said solemnly. He walked up the aisles; many of the seats were taken as some of the kids shot him dirty looks and laughed at his still sore face. Fourth seat on the left, towards the back of the bus driver's seat, Ray saw the tall boy who had been with Favish yesterday grinning with evil satisfaction. Taking a seat in the very back, as it was the only one available; Ray put his head against the window and looked back as his house became more distant.  
  
The bus rounded Maple Street, and then turned on 15th. Ray knew exactly whose street this was. He looked out the window and saw her standing there with the same blue parka she had on last night, except she had added a checkered skirt and stockings with it. She walked onto the bus, giving a gentle flick of her hair as she turned around. She was not smiling.  
  
Elaine's presence brightened Ray's sad, gray day. He looked up from his window and extended his neck, hoping she would notice him and sit next to him. He slumped back down when she saw one of her friends and sat next to her. They immediately began a conversation, Ray wishing he could be apart of. Early into it, he noticed Elaine's friend's expressions, as her jaw dropped and her eyes widened at various points. She even looked back at Ray a couple of times. Ray knew what the conversation was about; he didn't even need to be told.  
  
The next and final stop was on a small shack a little bit from Elaine's house. The color was drained from it and chipping off in pieces. The screen on the door was broken. Waiting outside wearing a green New York Jets jacket was Alan Favish. His hair was sort of sticking up and looked unruly, going together with his blue jeans. He looked scruffy, yet hadn't lost any of his charm as he walked onto the bus.  
  
"Hey Mr. Yossarian, how's it going?"  
  
"Fine, just fine Alan, and yourself?"  
  
"Alright, can't wait to get to school. Society needs more education these days."  
  
"Save your speech for the presidential elections Nixon!" his tall friend said from the aisle, getting a laugh out of everyone on the bus, including Elaine.  
  
Favish grinned and pointed to the tall boy. He took a seat next to Elaine and her friend and immediately jumped into their conversation. The bus was beginning to get louder with all the kids onboard. Ray could imagine that Favish already knew about the night before. Elaine's friend immediately began relating those events to Favish, much to, as Ray supposed, Elaine's chagrin. Favish began wearing the same expression Elaine's friend had worn not too long ago. He looked around the bus and his eyes rested on Ray and both of their eyes met. Favish's eyes narrowed and Ray could only imagine what was going through his enemy's mind.  
  
When the bus stopped at the school, the kids all piled out onto the ramp that leads to the school. Ray stayed behind in the back of the bus; he didn't see Favish outside in the multitudes of children around.  
  
"Come on kid, I've got to go. Get off the bus!"  
  
Ray grudgingly got out of his seat and walked what seemed like the long hallway towards the electric chair. As soon as he was off the bus and on the school's campus, the bus driver snapped the doors shut and drove off in a puff of smoke. His mind came back to him, as he realized that Favish was still around and there was still a good five minutes before the first bell rang.  
  
He looked around one last time and ran, as fast as he could, anywhere in the school would make a good hideout. He very nearly bumped into students, into teachers, even nearly knocking over one of the cafeteria workers with a pot of stew, which was that day's special.  
  
He knew he couldn't find a hideout to stay in long enough; he'd either be late for class or Favish or would find him. He dreaded both options.  
  
Ray stopped running long enough to get a good idea of where he was. He noticed that he was close to the high school football field, according to all the trash that was left behind on the ground. He wondered how fast the news of Carl's arrest had spread there.  
  
Behind him, he heard the bell ring for the middle school. Of course he was going to be at least a little late, but not much to get marked tardy.  
  
He began the long walk back to his school, knowing that he had at least evaded Favish for that brief, little while.  
  
. . .  
  
"Mr. Stantz, you're late." The History teacher, Mr. Johnson, didn't look up from the class roll sheet he'd been reading.  
  
"Sorry sir", Ray said, "I had some trouble getting off the bus."  
  
"Just take your seat. At least I know you're here." Ray sat in his seat in the third row of the class, right behind a red-haired kid freckled kid. Whenever Ray was bored, he'd count the flecks on the back of the boy's neck.  
  
"Now class", Mr. Johnson said putting the sheet away. "As I was saying yesterday, the battle of Bull Run was not the first incident of the Civil War, and neither was Fort Sumter. Those two are only minor footnotes, as the real story begins long before Lincoln was elected." He went to the blackboard and began putting various dates and names up there.  
  
"Before I forget to mention this, take out a sheet of paper and copy what I'm pitting up here on the board. You will have to know this for the test next week."  
  
Ray couldn't concentrate on his notes, which was unusual. He couldn't pay attention to the lecture that Mr. Johnson was droning on about. Ray's mind was on last night, this morning, and what Carl's fate would be. He blamed himself for the situation Carl was in, his guilt weighing heavily on him.  
  
(But Captain Fuhrman didn't tell your parents that you knew it was Carl?) It doesn't matter, Ray thought to himself. He also didn't tell them that I was actually involved in the scuffle. He only said that I was walking the streets with Elaine and saw the guys beating Boo up, that we scared them off.  
  
(You think your father or mother believe it?) Not with a grain of salt.  
  
"Mr. Stantz, will you please tell me who it was that led a famous raid in Harper's Ferry, Virginia in 1859?"  
  
"Huh?" Ray said. "I'm sorry sir, I wasn't paying attention." Mr. Johnson sighed as several kids began laughing.  
  
"Never mind, Raymond. You may have the highest grade in the class but you sure are a few potatoes short of a sack. Will you kindly pay attention from now on?"  
  
"Yes sir", Ray said. Mr. Johnson nodded his head and pointed to a kid whose hair covered his eyes named Filby to answer the question. Ray slumped back down in his chair and began writing again, this time trying to keep up with new notes that Mr. Johnson had put on the board. He got Andrew Jackson and Andrew Johnson mixed up by putting their administrations in the wrong times and misspelled General Santa Anna's name. Perhaps it was due to all the stress and anger he was feeling at this point; as he was pressing down on the paper with his pen, the pen broke, spilling ink all over Ray's paper and desk and onto the floor.  
  
"Aw darn it!" Ray shouted, loudly enough that disrupted Mr. Johnson's lecture. The class looked at Ray and so did the teacher, who was now smiling with a sense of anger.  
  
"Is there a problem Mr. Stantz?" he said between clenched teeth. "Because if there is, I hope we can fix it."  
  
"Um", Ray stammered, his face growing red, "yes sir, my pen broke and it's kind of spilling all over my desk." Some of the kids in Ray's row began backing away from the mess. Mr. Johnson shook his head.  
  
"Go to Mr. Jorge's office and get a paper towel and water", he sighed. Ray got up and as he was walking out the door, he heard the class laughing at him again.  
  
The janitor's office was just down the school hallway. It was empty. Ray began tapping the row of locks on the lockers with his fingers and whistled "You Really Got a Hold on Me", though a bit sadder than he usually did it.  
  
The janitor's door was already open; Ray guessed that Mr. Jorge was probably already cleaning somewhere. He took the available paper towel and wet the sheets. Walking out, he was halfway up the hall when he heard:  
  
"Heyyy Francinnnne!" He knew who it was. Ray put some spark in his walk, almost on the verge of running back to his classroom. Getting inside, he slammed the door, getting the attention of his classroom again. Mr. Johnson didn't say anything, just looked up again and went back to the lesson.  
  
Getting to his desk, Ray began the cleanup. It proved difficult, as he soon realized that the paper towels were somewhat thinner than he had expected them to be. He ended up getting more ink on his hands than on the towel but did manage to get it cleaned up.  
  
When he got back to his desk after throwing the towels away, Ray began going through his backpack, trying to find another pen to use, though he doubted he had put another one in. The one that had broken was his favorite and hadn't thought about it breaking anytime soon.  
  
His hand fell on an unusual object at the very bottom, something that had not been there before. He pulled it out slowly. It was the pink pen case that Boo Radley had given him last night, the same case that he had flipped out about.  
  
Ray scratched his head, wondering how the pen had gotten in there in the first place: he hadn't put it in his backpack; in fact the last time he had seen it was on his desk in his room, sitting right beside an autographed picture of Dopey Dog.  
  
His mind went back to the last thing that Boo had told him, to not open it until the time was right. Ray had been on the verge of opening it when Boo had a conniption fit, which was uncharacteristic of the man.  
  
Ray licked his lips, knowing full well that his curiosity had been flared up by this object. He slowly and gingerly flicked the top open, not knowing what exactly he was about to do.  
  
.and nothing happened. The sky did not fall, the world did not end. Inside the pen case as just another, average pen, not unlike one you could buy at a five and dime, the only difference being that the pen was the same hot pink as the case.  
  
Ray slumped back into his chair, holding the pen in front of him. All that worry and headache for just some inanimate object? he thought to himself. Perhaps Boo had really lost it. Ray hated admitting that aspect to himself. He decided not to think about, only concentrating on that he had a pen here and he needed to take the rest of Mr. Johnson's notes. Switching it on to the writing side, he clicked the top of it.  
  
For a few moments, the pen did not write anything on his paper. Frustrated, Ray shook it, watching the ink swirl around inside. Perhaps there was some kind of block inside of it.  
  
It was then that Ray noticed the funny colored smoke billowing from the nose of it. It was purplish colored, and almost smelled sweetly like his mother's green tea to Ray.  
  
Ray thought that he was probably getting high of the smoke, as he noticed that it was beginning to take shape. Slowly, it formed a body as arms began poking out of it. Then, feet sprouted from it as the shape broke free from the smoke. It landed on the middle of Ray's paper. Standing there was a little imp, wearing a purple tunic and green leotards.  
  
"Hi there!" it said enthusiastically. Ray rubbed his eyes, not believing that he was watching this happen.  
  
"Uh," he said, trying to find the right words. "Hi?"  
  
"What's your name?" the imp said smiling at Ray. He was somewhat apprehensive about it, not knowing if anyone else was watching this. Apparently they weren't. Just as he was about to answer, his teacher answered for him.  
  
"Raymond Stantz! I have had just about enough of your nonsense for one day!" Mr. Johnson shouted, a blood vessel beginning to form on his head. "You have disrupted this class for the very last time! You."  
  
He couldn't finish his sentence. The bell rang. Ray breathed a sigh of relief as he began packing his books, getting ready for his next class. He did not see where the imp had gone.  
  
"Mr. Stantz, come here." Ray walked slowly up to Mr. Johnson's desk. He seemed calmed down now, but he could still his face was still red.  
  
"Yes sir?" Ray asked. He was twiddling the pen in his hand behind him. Getting to the desk, Mr. Johnson eyed Ray up and down, as if he were looking for some anomaly inside of him.  
  
"You caused my class too many disruptions that I would to care for", he said, calmer than he had been five minutes earlier. "For that, I should give you detention. Maybe even helping Jorge out with his janitorial duties, which is it I was considering."  
  
Ray gulped once. He had heard about Jorge and his after school "duties" as the teachers called it. Needless to say, the students avoided it as best they could.  
  
"But I did not", Johnson continued. "Ray, is there something wrong today, that's bothering you? You usually don't cause these many problems."  
  
"Actually sir", began Ray, but the tardy bell drowned him out. "I'd better getting to class," he finished.  
  
"Right", said Mr. Johnson. "Here, let me write you a tardy slip, so that Hank won't be an arse about it."  
  
The next two periods went by slowly for Ray, as he began to think what the heck that imp was doing there. Did Boo somehow know about it? Ray thought that was unlikely. Why would Boo give up something this important, and to him? That was what really raised the question.  
  
But beside that, Ray was also wondering where the imp had gone. He'd read in one of his father's old children's books that imps enjoyed causing trouble, and then blaming it on whoever set him free. During his English class, he waited for word of someone causing chaos out in the halls, but it never came. Instead, after English, the lunch bell rang.  
  
Ray decided to walk around, not always eating lunch in the cafeteria, instead bringing his from home and eating it by the library. Now, he was on a hunt to find that imp. Bypassing the kids on the way to the lunch room, Ray was hunched over with a magnifying glass out, not knowing whether or not the thing had been stepped on. He knew he was getting weird looks from all of his schoolmates, but hardly cared. At least until he found himself staring into the wolf face of Favish.  
  
It happened really too quick: Ray felt his magnifying glass get snatched from his hand with terrific quickness, then felt himself get pushed to the ground. He didn't need to be told that it was one of the members of Favish's gang who did it. He looked up and saw them all standing beside him, Favish in the middle of it with his arms folded.  
  
"You know, you can at least be polite and answer me when I call you", he said with an edge in his voice. All Ray could do was to stare back at him, not wanting to say anything. He knew that Favish already knew about the night before; it was a small town, word travels quickly no matter who said it.  
  
"Well, haven't you got anything to say?"  
  
"Only that you might as well get it over with."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You and I both know what you want to do." Ray got up from the ground and dusted himself off. He puffed out his stomach.  
  
"Oh that", Favish said dismissively. "Not now. I just want to talk to you."  
  
Ray didn't believe him. Why would Favish, his bully, want to talk to the prey? It was like a lion chatting it up with a gazelle. Both cases, Ray surmised, will end the same way: the prey will be eaten or maimed. In Ray's case, a maiming was imminent.  
  
"No, Francine, I mean Ray." This is what really made Ray raise his eyebrows. Favish never, ever, called him Ray. Only if it were to suck up to some teacher if he were doing something wrong.  
  
"I go to thinking that maybe I've pegged you wrong all this time", said Favish. "What you did last night was pretty cool, you know. Not everybody can take out three muggers, and you did. I'm proud of you for that."  
  
Ray wished he had some witnesses with him. Favish actually praising someone below himself? Unthinkable, and yet almost unprecedented at the same time.  
  
"So me and the guys, we got to thinking since you've proven how bad you can really be, how's about you joining us?"  
  
Ray beamed, yet was still apprehensive about it all. He could not believe that last night's incident, the stories that were swirling around it, were becoming so out of context that they had actually brought Favish here, to consider making Ray a member of his gang. It was like destiny's light was beginning to shine on him finally, that he was going to be more than just some kid named Ray.  
  
"But here's the thing", Favish continued. "Chad over here doesn't think you're up to joining us, that you're just a butterball. I say to him 'the guy took a beating yesterday, yet is here today'. He still doesn't agree with me."  
  
"So we compromised and came up with this: You know all about the Powell place don't you?"  
  
For the second time that day, Ray gulped. He did know about the Powell mansion, everybody in Morrisville seemed to know about that house. It was the only house built outside of town that still remained outside of the town. Ever since he could remember, Ray had heard many stories circulating about that house, many involving something about a ghost.  
  
Favish looked at Ray and grinned. "Yeah, you do don't you? Well, you know all about those initiations that happen up there right? You ain't a real man if you can't survive a night in the mansion."  
  
Ray had heard this before, many times from the kids in his classes. From what he could gather, most of them would try to show how "fearless" they were by spending the night inside the house. If you managed to survive all night, you were given some kind of status amongst the kid population. But if you chickened out and left the house before the designated time, your reputation, meaningless if it were, was completely destroyed, leaving you with somewhat of a nobody status in the community, while that hero who stayed in the house was a hero.  
  
He remembered his next door neighbor, James Corrigan, a tall Irish kid with red hair, saying he had stayed the night in the house with his "mates" as he called his friends. Corrigan had said that, on a dare, he stayed in the basement of the house for five hours. Although he had made it out, Ray thought his neighbor had been lying until he looked at the top of Corrigan's head. Sticking out of his carrot-colored hair were many strands of gray hairs.  
  
"So what do you say? Tonight, midnight. You stay in there until five in the morning; you're a part of our gang." Favish extended his right hand. Ray began thinking of his options again. Reluctantly, he extended his left and grabbed Favish's. It was sweaty, and despite his hand nearly slipping from Favish's, he pumped it up and down enthusiastically.  
  
"Alright, Alan, I accept."  
  
"Beautiful, shake the man's hand guys." All the members of Favish's gang shook Ray hand as well. It kind of made him feel good, considering the circumstances. They all wore pleasant smiles on their faces. He couldn't tell whether they were sincere or was it merely an open invitation into the lion's den.  
  
After Favish and his gang had left him (Favish patting him on the back as he was leaving) Ray heard another voice call his name. This time, it was a lot closer to his ear.  
  
"Hey, you handled that pretty well", it said. The voice startled Ray and he jumped somewhat. He heard the voice cry out as well, and saw something fall from his shoulder. He made an attempt to catch it, but discovered that it could fly.  
  
It was the imp from the pen Boo had given him, flying in front of Ray's face with its arms behind its back. It was smiling.  
  
"What are you?" Ray asked, sitting down on the stoop nearby. He felt his legs suddenly go weak, an effect his father had told him that would happen from an overabundance of stress for a day or days.  
  
The imp laughed at him. "You humans are funny. We never got to properly introduce ourselves before." It held out its tiny hand.  
  
"My name is Malvolio", it said. Ray looked at its hand and the imp laughed.  
  
"Sorry", it said. "It's been a long time since I've been with a human." With a snap of its fingers, the imp immediately began to change sizes, growing the height of a normal six year old child. A normal six year old child with a fruity elfin dress, Ray thought. Shrugging (and thinking that he was probably crazy now) he shook its hand.  
  
"Um, hello", said Ray, not sure if he should be believing this was happening. He was thinking that Favish's compliments were more believable than this imp in front of him. "I'm Ray Stantz. I live here, uh, Malvolio."  
  
"Great!" the imp said enthused. Ray didn't know what it was enthused about; here was this imp from some kind of Grimm fairy tale, and he didn't know what to do about it.  
  
"I.don't know how to quite ask you this", Ray began, becoming a bit unnerved by the imp's continuous smile, "but why exactly are you here?"  
  
"That's a good question. You see, I don't know why I'm here, but it seems as though you're my new master."  
  
"Master?"  
  
"Yes. It is written that imps shall serve those who freed them from their prisons."  
  
Ray fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out the pink pen. "How'd you even get in there?" he asked.  
  
"I was unjustly tried for a crime I did not commit. My jailer thought it necessary to put me inside that accursed.pen," it said with much venom, "that I lusted to know freedom once again."  
  
"How long were you in there?" The imp thought long and hard on this subject.  
  
"I'd say, since before 1920 at least. Might've been 1917 or 1918."  
  
"What was the crime you didn't do?" asked Ray, becoming more curious.  
  
"I killed a Hobgoblin", the imp said. It had lost some of its cheeriness as it thought back to fifty years ago.  
  
"But that was such a long time ago", it said, changing its tone back to its original cheer. "The past is done, what matters now is the future."  
  
"The future?" Ray asked. He didn't need to have this on his mind now. His mother was already upset over his pets; he could only imagine what she'd say if he had this imp in her house.  
  
"Right, the future. Today is a brand new day! Now, what would you wish of me master?"  
  
That brought Ray back to his senses. "First, I don't really care for the word master", he said, again twiddling the pen between his fingers. "Secondly, I---I don't understand this whole 'wish' thing. Are you saying that I can wish for anything or is it just three wishes?"  
  
"Three wishes?" The imp laughed again. "Fairy tales started by many centuries ago. You may have any wish you want, at any time." At these words, Ray finally got over his apprehension.  
  
"Cool", he said. He looked back down at the pen, and began thinking of that day. Carl's arrest, the bus ride, Favish's offer. All that began coming back into focus. He looked back at the imp, and began to think: Is this what Boo had meant, about knowing when the time was right to use this imp? He liked to think so. Nevertheless.  
  
"I hate asking this of you, but I can't really have you bouncing around the school. I might get in trouble, you know." The imp nodded.  
  
"I know what you mean." It sighed and began turning back into the purple cloud of smoke it had been when Ray had first released him and disappeared inside the pen. Ray stuck the pen onto his front pocket, complacent that the day was picking up gradually, though he imagined how home was going to feel like. Then he felt terrible again.  
  
The rest of the day went by quickly, though Ray had some difficulty concentrating on his schoolwork. It was weird to even think like he normally did, as his Gym teacher commented on. He said Ray kind of had a glazed over look in his eyes, as if he were daydreaming.  
  
After school, Ray walked home, as he usually did. On ordinary days, his father would be at his office in the city and his mother would be at home cooking dinner and talking to Jean. Carl would be home later in the day, as his school let out a little bit later, so he and Ray never walked together. Ray hated walking home from school, but it was a compromise. He didn't like the bus either.  
  
But today, walking home just made sense. He needed to clear his head of things. Twice, especially in his Gym class, he'd been tempted to open up the pen and release the imp. As weird as it sounded (as Ray told himself), the imp was actually pleasant to talk to. Almost like a friend.  
  
He didn't know until he passed by the diner that he was on the way to Boo's Comics and Stories. He felt good about that, at least he could talk to Boo Radley about the pen, Carl's arrest, and other things that were bugging him. The thing with Favish he'd keep to himself.  
  
Approaching the store, Ray got a shock. There was a large, yellow sign on the front of the doors that read:  
  
CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE  
  
Boo Radley hardly ever closed his shop this early. He didn't even close it on holidays, opting instead to provide a haven for the neighborhood kids whenever they wanted to drop by. Ray himself had stopped inside sometime after Christmas a couple of years ago, and noticed how packed it was with both kids and adults. Boo was serving hot chocolate and sugar cookies with free copies of a new shipment of comic books. Though that was not the reason the place was packed on a holiday.  
  
The windows were boarded up (there were no blinds to pull over them), making it difficult to see inside. Even the building looked abandoned somewhat. Ray began getting weird vibes from it, as if the building was a marker of a Greek tragedy recently played out.  
  
Boo's absence only added to another question Ray wanted to know. Walking away, Ray began to wonder would all his days in this neighborhood be this strange.  
  
. . . .  
  
There was nobody home when Ray got there at least forty-five minutes after three. The house was just as empty as Boo's comic's store, only sadder. Walking into the kitchen, Ray found a note written to him by his mother:  
  
DEAR RAY I HAVE GONE DOWNTOWN WITH YOUR FATHER TO SEE MR. FUHRMAN. WE DON'T KNOW WHEN WE'LL BE BACK. THERE'S SOME DINTY-MOORE IN THE PANTRY FOR YOUR LUNCH. BE CAREFUL. MOM.  
  
Ray had almost forgotten that Captain Fuhrman had said he wanted to see both Dr. and Mrs. Stantz downtown later that day. He felt that same sick feeling in his stomach that he had felt earlier that day.  
  
The Dinty-Moore stew that his mother had left for him was not Ray's favorite. Nevertheless, he felt he needed to fill something inside of him. Something that was empty, something that had been there before, but was now gone.  
  
He sat at the kitchen table, eating his cold stew, when the thought overcame him. He saw the pen hanging from his shirt pocket. Yes, it would be tempting, wouldn't it? he thought. More than tempting, it was as if the pen were calling him to release the imp.  
  
Five seconds later, Ray was staring into the face of Malvolio.  
  
"Hey, it looks like death warmed over, and not very much, in here!" Malvolio said looking around the house. It was unusually dark in the Stantz home. Ray hadn't bothered to open up the blinds.  
  
"You're not too far away from the mark, Mal", Ray said somberly. Malvolio frowned.  
  
"You seem a bit sad about things? What's the matter?"  
  
So Ray told Malvolio everything, including the previous day's events. He noticed how interested Malvolio was at certain points when he mentioned the incidents with Favish, how he was secretly in love with Elaine Fuhrman, how he got his brother arrested. Malvolio's audience made Ray feel a little better about the whole thing. Whatever had been missing before, the void, he began to discover that it was slowly getting filled in.  
  
"So this.Favish as you call him, he is now beginning to be your best friend?" Malvolio asked.  
  
"Yeah, kind of strange isn't it? Yesterday, he would've beaten me to a pulp, which he did, but now he seems to like me." Malvolio shook his head.  
  
"I would not trust the Favish", he said. "He is.sneaky as it seems. He could be setting you up for a sinister plot."  
  
Ray laughed. "You sound just like my dad." He was beginning to feel that Malvolio was easy company. Seeing him sit in the air like he was doing only made Ray think that whatever was happening now would turn out for the better.  
  
"Is this him?" Malvolio said, pointing to a picture of both his parents on their wedding day.  
  
"Yeah, my mom's in there too." Ray picked up the portrait and regarded it for a few moments. "He's told us that his tux cost more money than what he was bringing in at that time. So he and mom had to improvise on the ring. It was a Flash Gordon decoder ring that he had found in their morning cereal. She hasn't taken it off since."  
  
"And this", pointed Malvolio to another portrait, this time of his brother, "is Carl?"  
  
"The one who I got arrested, yeah." He didn't want to say anymore about it. As far as he knew, Carl was probably getting questioned by Captain Fuhrman. And Fuhrman did not like some of Carl's answers.  
  
A thought flashed across Ray's face as he was getting up throw his empty stew can away. He turned to Malvolio.  
  
"You mentioned earlier that I am your keeper, right?"  
  
"That is correct," the imp said.  
  
"And you said you can grant any wishes, right?"  
  
"Right again."  
  
"Well, I have a wish. I wish that my family could be together again tonight. That Carl does not have to go to jail for twenty-five years. That everything can be all right again."  
  
The imp snapped his fingers. "It is done, master", he said. He then disappeared inside the pen just as quickly. Ray did not know what had happened. It seemed that Malvolio would not leave his home even as many times as Ray clicked the pen. He wanted to ask the imp what would happen next, but got no answer.  
  
. . . .  
  
Ray's parents came home late that night, around six o'clock, when Channel 54 showed the Dopey Dog Cartoon Corral Hour. He heard the door open, though nobody said anything. He looked behind him and saw his parents come in first. His father and mother were walking side by side, Jean holding her mother's hand. Ray noticed how small his father was looking now. Perhaps from the shame he was feeling in his heart.  
  
His mother had seemed to calm down from how she was that morning, though her face seemed made of granite. Carl walked in behind them, holding his wrists. He shot Ray a look of pure hatred and Ray could feel the daggers digging deep inside him.  
  
Dinner was take out, the only Chinese restaurant in town, Wong's. Nobody said much over dinner, except Jean who was regaling them with a story about her tea party with Abigail Mumblethunder and Wilma Flint. She was also telling them stories of her week at school and how James Corrigan's brother Ian kicked dirt on her skirt. Carolyn only said that she'll try to wash it out tomorrow morning. Carl was not at the kitchen table, opting instead to eat in the living room.  
  
Ray mostly picked over the cooling Chicken Chow-Mien. He hand itched for the pen that he had upstairs. If this is what Malvolio had granted him, he didn't want to make anymore wishes.  
  
Finally, Dr. Stantz broke the silence.  
  
"Okay family, I know why we're all sad and stone faced", he said, making sure his voice carried over so that Carl could hear.  
  
"But that's no reason why we still shouldn't enjoy our togetherness and this meal which Mrs. Wong so graciously prepared."  
  
"The Chow-Mien could've been cooked longer," Ray muttered. His father laughed.  
  
"True, but still, we can't dwell on the bad, dire as they are." Ray didn't need his father to admit it, because he knew.  
  
Carl had willfully agreed to attempted robbery and assault. There was no way around it and he knew his father knew that. But he applauded his father for trying to ease away the gloomy atmosphere in the house.  
  
"Now, don't think of this as the last time all of us will have dinner together." He almost didn't say 'together', but looked in Carl's direction, who was not paying attention to him.  
  
"Because we will have many, many more to come. Now, Carl's court hearing is slated for next week. What say we all got to Toad Island?"  
  
"Toad Island?" Jean said in disgust. "I hate it there!" Dr. Stantz harrumphed.  
  
"It's a family vacation spot. I know we all have been under amounts of stress lately, and thought maybe we could just get away for a couple of days. Probably head out to Brighton Beach as well."  
  
"Sounds good Dad", Ray said. He loved Toad Island, but had never been to Brighton Beach. Maybe the experience might make his relationship with Carl a little better. He thought that maybe this is what Malvolio had given him, by having the family connect during this vacation.  
  
"Good. We can leave Saturday morning and stay until Monday evening. It'll be fun!"  
  
His father's enthusiasm brightened the evening, leading to more conversations from the four members of the Stantz family. Carolyn and David discussed what it was like in the police station, keeping the details about Carl's booking and interrogation sparse.  
  
Ray did not mention Favish or the pen or the imp.  
  
When Ray decided to sneak out of house, it was about 11:45 p.m. He had gone to bed wearing his regular clothes. He hoped they were dark enough, so that nobody (including Captain Fuhrman's midnight patrol) could see him. It was pitch black outside, except for the stars that twinkling overhead. It almost made Ray think of the song "Blue Moon".  
  
Once again, the accursed window creaked as he began lifting it. I'll fix that, Ray thought, though he doubted he'll be sneaking out again anytime soon, especially if he got caught.  
  
He followed the same route that he had the night before, climbing down his mother's fence of roses, then hoofing the rest of the way. He knew it'd be a little while before he got there, probably about ten minutes, which was sufficient time. He wouldn't be too late, but he wouldn't be early enough for Favish to be further impressed.  
  
Every town had its haunted houses, and the Powell Mansion was Morrisville's. Not too many people know why it was built in the heart of the woods, but stories circulate (mostly around the younger crowd) about "that house" (as the older crowd call it).  
  
Ray remembered Mr. Johnson explaining the convoluted history of the house, which it begins back in the mid-1920s. Colonel Alabaster Henry Jonathon Powell, a hero during World War 1, built himself and his beautiful young bride a house of their very own. Why it was built in the woods, not too many people knew. Perhaps, and this has only been suggested, because the Bride (her name is lost forever to history) loved to be surrounded by the animals. Some versions of the story go that Colonel Powell wanted to live out there because he knew that unscrupulous lawyers wouldn't bother him. Yet another says that he was actually looking for the legendary demonic puma that they say haunted the woods.  
  
Whatever the case, the first year was actually pretty decent for the Powells. The one part many of the stories agree upon is what happened in 1932, the height of the Great Depression. It seems that Colonel Powell had made some bad investments in something (nobody quite knew what) and had to take to doing "odd jobs". His jobs began to take over his life to the point where he was hardly ever seen in town, during the day that is. The junk man, Hal West, recalls seeing Powell ambling about on the docks one day, waiting for something to come in. He didn't let Hal wait around and chased him off with his old Webley revolver, a reward Powell had gotten from a British commander during the Battle of Verndun. Soon, nobody saw either one of the Powell's again for at least a year. Hikers and occasional hunters would say that they were still alive, except that old Mr. Powell had gone a bit crazy now. Whatever he was doing to bide his time, it must've been pretty bad one of them said.  
  
Morrisville's commissioner, Jeffery Loeb, was the one who discovered their bodies in May of 1933. He would not have gone up there, the house already showing signs of the disrepair and dilapidation that would mark it forever, if a warrant had not been issued. It dealt with the business that Powell was involved in; apparently, Powell had been involved in smuggling goods across the Morrisville River and into Canada. Loeb didn't believe it: Colonel Powell was an upstanding citizen who had fallen on hard times who was involved in the importing and exporting of fish into the town.  
  
At least, that's what he was hoping. Nobody answered the front door when Loeb had gone up there, so he went around to the back to see if anyone was there. He doubted it, but there was a porch built back there. Nobody there was there either, but, and this is what surprised Loeb, the door was open. Suspecting foul play, he pulled out his service revolver and entered.  
  
He shouted: "ANYBODY HOME?!" getting no answer. He went to the living room, and found that a shotgun had been placed on a stool in front of the door, a string wrapped around the trigger to the doorknob. Loeb would say years later that if he hadn't decided to go around back, he would have gotten five slugs in his chest and wouldn't have been able to tap dance with his wife that night.  
  
He turned around and faced the stairs and almost vomited. Lying at the bottom of them was Mrs. Powell, a large shotgun hole in her head. Dried blood was all over the floor. Loeb decided to look upstairs, and, swearing again years later, that he almost heard the demons laughing at him.  
  
He would say that they creaked eerily, even more so than normal. Upstairs, he checked every room he could (he wondered why Powell had built so many for just two people). It was in the Master Bedroom, the Powell's bedroom, that Commissioner Loeb found the body of Colonel Alabaster Powell hanging from the ceiling.  
  
Two minutes later, Loeb called Jasper Doolan, the town's young coroner, to come and pick up the bodies. Loeb, the coroner, and the rest of the town could only suspect that Powell had gone mad, perhaps from the stress of the Depression, and killed his wife in a fit of insanity. Feeling guilty and knowing his honor was at stake, Powell killed himself rather than face the community of Morrisville. Doolan would say that for some reason the blood couldn't come off of the floor, the stairs, and the hall, that it was as if they were permanently painted there. In later years, salespersons would tell it that way, to sway their potential buyers.  
  
Nobody moved into the Powell house after 1933. Who could blame them, really? Those who tried living in "that house" did not stay for long for various reasons. It took on the sense of a living nightmare for the children. They would make up their own stories as to how Colonel Powell haunted his house, each one becoming more outrageous than the last (or so they thought). They would make up games about Colonel Powell coming after you after dark had fallen.  
  
And now, here was Ray, facing this old dark house himself. He looked at his clock. It was 12:01 a.m. He remembered that reruns of Howdy Doody were on. He wished he was home right now.  
  
He looked around, and saw nothing but bushes and trees. And the house itself. He saw nothing of Favish or his gang.  
  
The house seemed to look down on Ray, with its many windows taking on the look of many eyes staring at him. The front doors almost becoming an open mouth.  
  
It reminded Ray of gigantic jaws, waiting for its prey to hop inside them.  
  
Yep, Ray thought, I'm gonna die. 


	3. Chapter 3

The house seemed to look down on Ray, with its many windows taking on the look of many eyes staring at him. The front doors almost becoming an open mouth.  
  
It reminded Ray of gigantic jaws, waiting for its prey to hop inside them.  
  
Yep, Ray thought, I'm gonna die.  
  
"Hey, you're here!" Favish said tapping Ray on the shoulder. He had been hiding in the bushes and had seen Ray walk up to the house.  
  
Ray jumped almost a foot in the air, and let out a half screech. Favish focused his flashlight on Ray and grinned.  
  
"Sorry about that", Ray said. "I was just waiting for you guys to get here."  
  
"We were here", Favish replied. "We were just waiting for you to get here." Behind him, members of Favish's gang began to pile out of the bushes. Ray noticed this, but said nothing about it.  
  
"Now, the rules are that you, Raymond Francis Stantz, must spend at least five hours inside the famous Morrisville haunted house, otherwise known as the Powell Mansion. If you, Raymond Francis Stantz, chicken out of it within five minutes before the allotted time, then you, Raymond Francis Stantz, will be publicly declared a chicken in a public forum of our choosing." Favish smiled, his face looking like a wolf.  
  
"Do you understand all that, Stantz?"  
  
"I get it. Where do I spend the night?"  
  
"The basement. It's where everyone spends their night."  
  
Ray gulped and looked back at the house; more and more it was beginning to take on the persona of the evil that had once inhabited it.  
  
"Are you guys coming in with me?" Ray asked. It sounded more like a last request for someone about to face the firing squad.  
  
Favish shook his head. "Of course not; we're going to hang out here and wait for five to hit. We'll come and get you.if you've lived long enough." Favish and his friends laughed haughtily at his joke. Ray, too, could not help but elicit a chuckle, even if it was a weak one.  
  
Shaking Favish's hand one last time, Ray turned towards the house and began to walk towards the steps. His legs felt heavier with each step. Behind him, he swore he could hear one of Favish's friends humming "Taps".  
  
The doorknob felt cold in Ray's hand; strangely enough, dust was not on it, but when Ray thought about it, it was not so strange. Kids in the neighborhood came up to this house all the time, always gripping the doorknob to where dust did not have the time to settle.  
  
Ray looked behind himself one last time at Favish and his friends. Favish shot Ray a thumb up, showing that he had total confidence in the kid. His friends soon followed, chanting Ray's name is if they were leaders at a football game. Ray's heart fluttered a little bit, giving him a little bit of confidence. He turned the knob and opened the door to the Powell mansion. It was dark, too dark in fact for anybody to look inside.  
  
"You're going to need this kid", one of Favish's friends said to Ray, tossing him a flashlight.  
  
"Thanks", replied Ray. He looked back at the inside of the house and shined a flashlight inside. It fell on the very steps that Commissioner Loeb had found Mrs. Powell forty-seven years ago. True to the stories, the bloodstain was still there. Gulping again, and helped by the whoops of hope given by Favish and his friends, Ray entered the house and closed the door behind him.  
  
It creaked like his room window.  
  
. . .  
  
This isn't so bad, Ray thought looking around the house. A lot redecorating and this place could be cool again. He knew he was only saying this because he had a flashlight; if he didn't have that, he also knew he'd be in bad shape.  
  
Everything inside the Powell house had virtually been left the same as the police had left it since that terrible day in 1933: there were various paintings of different subjects, varying from animals to humans, to some of the house itself and portraits of the Colonel and Mrs. Powell. On this painting, Ray noticed how beautiful the Colonel's wife was, with her raven black hair falling upon her shoulders, an unusual style for that time. On the Colonel himself, Ray was kind of frightened by him. The Colonel seemed to come from a different era altogether, dressed in formal military uniform, perhaps the same one had worn at his wedding. He was also bald, most of his hair coming from the side of his head. His mustache, curled at the tips, looked very distinguished and well kept.  
  
But it wasn't that what scared Ray; it was the Colonel's eyes really. He heard stories from the people that had known the Colonel personally (there was always twenty or thirty people in town who did) that the reason the Colonel was so successful in his battles was that he had to simply stare at his enemies. He had cold, dark eyes, black enough to be coal and mysterious enough to baffle even Holmes. And this was Ray shining a flashlight on a painting, yet it was taking a life of its own. Perhaps the Colonel was planning his wife's death in this painting? Ray wondered. He didn't want to think of the answer.  
  
Shaking off the odd feeling he got from the painting, Ray explored more of the house. Time had not been well to the kitchen, the tile on the floor nearly unrecognizable. Looking in the sink, Ray wrinkled his nose at the stench from the five decades old dishwater with dishes in it. There wasn't any food inside, and Ray began to wonder if that was due to hikers and bums coming up here and taking all of it. There were two plates set at a small table, the silverware already laid out.  
  
Getting out of the kitchen, Ray went upstairs. As he was crossing the bottom step, he felt a cold chill pass through him. That was the very step where Commissioner Loeb found Mrs. Powell's dead body. Going further up, the feeling left Ray, which he thought was weird. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising in fear.  
  
The hallway seemed endless to Ray; even as he showed the light down it, he couldn't see the end. He walked down it, not knowing fully what would await him at the other side. He checked all of the other rooms along the way, nothing much out of the ordinary inside of them, but stopped when he came up the fifth room on the left. The Master Bedroom, the very room that Loeb had found the Colonel. Much like the house he built, Powell's room seemed shrouded in eternal darkness.  
  
Ray poked his head inside, followed by the flashlight. He found it difficult to hold it steady in his shaking hand. He started at one end of the room, noticing a framed picture sitting on the bedside nightstand and the neatness of the bed itself. The other end was particularly average as well.  
  
Sighing in relief, Ray stepped inside the room. He would spend the night here, he thought, in the room where Powell killed himself. Let the kids of Morrisville know that I did.  
  
He didn't find any chairs about, though there was a desk facing the window. Against his better judgment, Ray sat down on the Colonel's bed, dust flying up in all directions. Ray coughed a couple of times.  
  
Hey, this is pretty comfortable, he thought as he began feeling how soft the bed was. He laid his head down on the old pillow and immediately went to sleep, the dream of being famous dancing around his head.  
  
. . .  
  
It was Favish that shook Ray awake from his dream.  
  
"Hey, Stantz! You all right?"  
  
Ray looked at him bleary-eyed and yawning. He was surprised to see Favish in the house, less than thirty minutes after Ray had gone inside.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his mind finally focused.  
  
"Just giving you your 3:30 checkup", replied Favish. Ray could barely see in the dark, but the light of the moon falling on Favish's face told him that the other boy had a look of concern on him.  
  
"Wait a minute", Ray said. "It's 3:30! As in '3:30 in the morning'?"  
  
"Yeah, it is about that time", Favish said. "Anyway, now that I know you're alright, I guess I'll be on my way."  
  
No sooner than he had said it, a crash was heard in the opposite room. Both boys got up and looked in the hallway. To their surprise there was nothing outside except darkness. "I wonder what that was", Favish said. He went out into the other room to check out the source of the noise, leaving Ray in the doorway of the Master Bedroom.  
  
The house was suddenly a little bit darker. Only an hour left before I can leave, Ray thought.  
  
Behind him, Ray thought he heard what sounded like footsteps. He turned around slowly and his jumped a little bit at what he saw. There, walking closer and closer towards Ray was the Colonel. There was horror on his face, more so apparent with his whiskers standing on end. His dark, black eyes stared at Ray much the same way as his portrait had. He was dressed in a similar military style that he had worn in the painting.  
  
Around the Colonel's neck was a rope, Ray noticed. As the dead man got closer, he realized that it was not just a rope, but a noose.  
  
"A NOOSE!" Ray screamed in his mind.  
  
"You have intruded upon my home," the ghost of the Colonel said slowly. "You come inside my bedroom. Where I sleep. Where my wife sleeps." Getting closer, Ray could see that the Colonel's hand was going into his jacket pocket. The same exact spot where the oldsters say that he kept his famous Webley.  
  
"P-P-Please sir", Ray sputtered, his fear getting the best of him. "I was only kidding around." The Colonel began pulling out whatever it was in his hand. Ray saw the dull gleam of the revolver shining from the light caused by the moon outside. He began to back out of the room now as the Colonel was no more than a mere two feet from Ray's face.  
  
"You see, and you'll probably find this funny, but I came inside here mostly on a dare." That seemed to get the Colonel's attention Ray noticed. "I-I came here just to get accepted into a friend's little group. He dared me to spend the night at your house Colonel Powell."  
  
"So does me not being around my home give you the right---no, the distinction---to enter another man's home?"  
  
"Actually sir, I'm just a kid." Ray realized that what he said was not the right thing, as the Colonel, despite his ghostly demeanor, seemed to grow angrier. His revolver was now out of his pocket and was now also pointed at Ray's head. Ray knew he had no place to go; his back was to the railing of the stairs.  
  
"Give my regards to the Devil when you meet him", the Colonel said and fired two shots from his Webley.  
  
Ray screamed and fell backwards from the top of the stairs.  
  
He expected to fall face forward onto the hard, squeaky floor. At least, he thought, Carl wouldn't have to worry about killing him later, or Jean not getting the attention that she supposedly needs from their parents.  
  
But he didn't fall on the floor face first; somehow, he had fallen onto a couch, though the impact at which he had hit it caused it to collapse. Ray laid there for several seconds as he regained his consciousness. He looked up at the stairs and saw the Colonel walking down towards him, stopping once to rub the portrait of his wife.  
  
Not wasting time, Ray ran to the door and tried opening it. He fumbled a little bit, trying to find the doorknob (he'd left his flashlight back in the Master Bedroom); when he did, he found out, to his horror, that it was locked. They hardly ever locked this door, on account of the fact that tourists would pick any locks Captain Fuhrman and the Morrisville PD put on it.  
  
Behind him, Ray noticed the Colonel was getting closer, his revolver pointed at him.  
  
Come on, man, come on! Ray shouted in his mind fiddling with the knob. Just as the Colonel was about to place his hand on Ray's shoulder, the knob finally clicked and Ray pulled it open, running as quickly as he could outside and into the woods.  
  
He didn't begin to slow down until he was sure the house was far behind him. The house really was haunted, he thought to himself, walking slower and slower. Taking a breather, he looked back at the Powell house. The ghostly Colonel was nowhere to be found.  
  
He hung his head down. He knew that he had bailed before the allotted time and therefore would be called chicken by the other kids in Morrisville.  
  
"Ah the moral trouble", said a familiar voice behind him. "I have seen that happen before sahib."  
  
Startled, Ray looked for the source. He didn't look far, as he was now facing a bright pink face!  
  
"Do not be upset sahib, it is only I", Malvolio said.  
  
"What are you doing-" Ray began to ask what was Malvolio doing here, but didn't. He had read too many issues of Captain Steel to know that some things were better left unasked. The thought of how the imp had managed to get out of the pen without Ray summoning him was also puzzling.  
  
"You.changed", Ray said panting. True, Malvolio had indeed changed his appearance from when Ray had seen him last. No longer was a small elfish looking thing, but he was now a large, pink thunderbolt of a figure.  
  
"Ah, yes. With each wish I grant, my power is augmented. I merely revert back to my original form, before the incident of the hobgoblin." Ray nodded, though he didn't understand.  
  
"Well, help me get home Mal", said Ray sorrowfully. "I have a story to tell but no one will believe me."  
  
"Do not be so gloomy master", Malvolio said. "We have enough time. Please, tell your tale."  
  
So Ray revealed everything that had happened to him in the past four hours, how he felt when he walked into the house, what he saw, and how the ghost of the Colonel nearly killed him.  
  
"He points his revolver at me and fires three rounds into my chest!" Ray said. "I think that maybe he either missed my heart or I'm just bleeding to death."  
  
"You're not bleeding."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said you're not bleeding", Malvolio repeated and illuminated Ray's shirt, giving Ray a better look at it. Examining his shirt carefully, Ray smelled a familiar scent upon it.  
  
"Its paint", Ray said. Malvolio only nodded.  
  
"Climb upon my back sahib", he said. Ray looked at the imp quizzically.  
  
"Are you kidding?"  
  
"No, I am not. I am solid and I will not drop you."  
  
Ray figured what else he had to lose. He walked slowly over to the imp and, with some help, was hoisted upon its back.  
  
"Are you ready?" Malvolio asked. "Good. Now we're off!"  
  
For the first time that night, Ray got a taste of what it felt like to fly, though he wished it was under more pleasant circumstances. Malvolio's speed was immense, as he was covering the ground faster than Ray had done running.  
  
They did not land at the front door; rather, Malvolio and Ray landed on the second story window. Ray went in first (the window broken a long time earlier). He waited for Malvolio to enter behind him, but was surprised to learn that his friend was able to walk through solid objects!  
  
Ray then realized that they were back in the Colonel's Master Bedroom and a chill ran down his spine. He didn't want to see the insane ghost of Colonel Powell, even if his gun wasn't made of real bullets.  
  
Getting closer to the door, the two of them heard voices coming from downstairs. They were apparently loud enough that Malvolio and Ray did not have leave their positions. Instead, they waited at the door and heard what was being said. One of the voices Ray recognized as belonging to Favish.  
  
"Aw man that was one hell of a trick!" he said laughing. "I'll never be able to top that one, not for a million years!"  
  
"Yeah Al", said another voice, Ray realized belonging to the tall boy in Favish's gang. "We taught that Stantz kid something good!"  
  
"Right, he'll never mess with Elaine again", Favish agreed. "I wish I could have broken his nose again though."  
  
"Hey, he'll get it even worse tomorrow when we tell everyone what a great, big yellow-belly is he is!" There was more laughing.  
  
"That's all fine and dandy", said another voice, this one older than Favish and his friend. "But I was under the impression that I was going to get paid for this job."  
  
"Right, right Ted", Favish said. "Here's a ten, go get juiced."  
  
"Thanks son."  
  
By this time Ray was at the very top of the stairs, having edged closer and closer to that point. He saw Favish give the money to Old Ted, the town drunkard; he saw Favish and the boy give each other high fives. But all this seemed inconsequential when Ray saw Favish wear his smile, the very one that had made Ray trust him. So, he thought, it was all a trick to embarrass me in front of Elaine. He could feel the tears coming to his eyes, which were quickly wiped away by Malvolio.  
  
"You are sad sahib", the imp said mournfully. "I can sense your anger towards them, these people who have made a fool of you. Who have."  
  
"You don't have to make it any worse Malvolio!" Ray shouted, though quietly enough that Favish and the others didn't hear. "I know what they did to me. I just wish."  
  
"I just wish."  
  
"I just wish that something ibad/i would happen to Alan Favish."  
  
"Hey", Favish said. "When'd it get darker?" Ray too began to scratch his head. The inside of the Powell house had suddenly become pitch black, dark enough to where even Ray could barely see the imp sitting beside him.  
  
"Watch this", said Malvolio as he slunk downstairs to where Favish and his friend were standing.  
  
Favish looked around him, trying to feel his way around, cursing every time he bumped into something. "Dang, Jake where are you?"  
  
"Over here Almmmmph."  
  
"What was that?" Favish called into the darkness. He received no answer. "Okay, if you want to play like that, I'm just going to head on home."  
  
i"You're not going home just yet Alan Rutherford Favish"i  
  
Had Ray been able to see, he would have laughed to have seen Favish wear the same expression of puzzlement that Ray had worn earlier that day.  
  
"Who are you?" Favish asked loudly. "Jake, if that's you, you're asking for an ass-whipping of a lifetime for using my middle name like that."  
  
i"I am not the one called Jake, nor any other being that you have known."/i  
  
"Really? Then if you're not Jake or Ted or anybody else I know, then what the hell are you?"  
  
There was a high sweet laughter in the air that creeped up and down Ray's spine. Then, a stellar light (similar to the color of Malvolio's pen) illuminated the whole room. There, Ray saw that he and Favish had the same expression of fright on their faces.  
  
Favish was standing in the middle of the floor, his knees suddenly shaking badly. In front of him was Malvolio, but then again it wasn't.  
  
Ray thought that Malvolio had gone through another metamorphosis, that the form he had chosen now was one of them. The upper half of Malvolio's body was almost that of his form that Ray had seen earlier that night. But his hands and arms had changed dramatically, taking on the appearance of a praying mantis's claws. The lower half of his body reminded Ray of one of the Minotaurs that his father had once told him about. Had this been on a garish cartoon show, Ray might have laughed. Now, all he could do was watch and be frightened.  
  
"Dude", Favish said, half in awe, half in fright. "What are you?"  
  
"The Guardian of this house", Malvolio said triumphantly. "And you have trespassed upon my property. For that, you shall pay."  
  
"Oh really?" Favish said, regaining his confidence back. Apparently, even he didn't believe that this was happening.  
  
"You doubt me?"  
  
"More than anything else. I'd put my life on the line to say that you're fake."  
  
"Really? Very well then Alan Rutherford Favish, I will show you. Good-bye Alan Favish."  
  
Ray heard Favish scream as Malvolio descended upon him in much the same manner that he had swooped down on Ray the day before. Then, Ray found himself again encircled in the hour between twilight and sunrise. Scratching his head, he wondered what had happened to Favish and Malvolio.  
  
He got his answer when he heard a scream that sounded like it came from the roof. Ray ran all the way up to the stairs that led to the attic and climbed them somewhat hesitantly, not sure of what he'd find up there.  
  
There wasn't much inside the attic to get in Ray's way as he made it towards a lone window. Peering out, he was shocked by the scene that greeted him there.  
  
Malvolio was standing upon the ledge of the mansion. He held Favish in one of his hands upside down. Ray could see the blood rushing to his enemy's face quickly, tears streaming from his face.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Favish pleaded. "I didn't mean to come in on your house! Please! DON'T DROP ME!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"We have gone beyond apologies Alan Favish", droned Malvolio. Ray noticed that his imp had suddenly become something iother/i. This was not the playful magician that Ray had met earlier, but someone else entirely. The cold, steel reserve in Malvolio's eyes showed not an ounce of humor in what he was doing.  
  
Malvolio was going to drop Alan Favish on his head.  
  
Ray could not hold in the horror he was feeling any longer and said:  
  
"Mal, stop! You don't know what you're doing!"  
  
"Yes, sahib, I do know", said Malvolio as he turned towards Ray. "I am doing as I'm commanded. I'm 'doing something bad' to Alan Favish, just as you wished."  
  
"I didn't wish this!" shouted Ray. But Malvolio was far from listening. He turned his back on Ray and, with an invisible force that Ray didn't see coming, pushed him back into the attic and took several tiles from the roof, barricading Ray inside.  
  
Outside, he heard Malvolio say a soft, "Good-bye Alan Favish" followed by the high-pitched screams of Favish. Ray's heart sank. Peeking through a small hole, he saw the imp looking downward, as if it were admiring its work.  
  
Then a strange thing happened. A look of horror passed over Malvolio's face as a beam of energy seared his arm. Roaring in pain, the imp disappeared, perhaps back to Ray's house.  
  
For a few moments, Ray sat in the attic looking outside. He didn't know what had exactly happened. Regaining his senses back, he walked out of the attic and back downstairs. Outside, he was ready to see Favish's crumpled body on the ground. But he was amazed by what he saw.  
  
Favish was indeed on the ground, but was curled up in a fetal position mumbling incoherently. The most damage that was on him was a small scratch on his forehead.  
  
Had this been under more pleasant circumstances, Ray would have found it funny to see his enemy like this. But this wasn't the way he wanted it to happen. In between his thoughts, Ray felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Is everything okay here?" Boo Radley asked calmly. Ray felt somewhat comforted by the face of the old man.  
  
"Yeah", said Ray then he looked at Radley. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I may ask you the same thing Raymond", said Radley. "I usually take hikes around these woods. And", eyeing Ray with a bit of suspicion, "find children around the Powell mansion."  
  
Ray looked down at the dirt. "Um, can I have a ride home?"  
  
"Sure", Boo said as he picked up Favish. "What happened to Master Favish here anyway?"  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you", Ray said.  
  
"Try me. I've seen and done a lot of unbelievable things in my lifetime and I've lived a long time."  
  
"Alright" Ray said. As they got to Boo's car (parked somewhat near the edge of the woods) Ray told Boo the story of the pen he had given him, what was inside, what it had told him, and was happening to it. Boo listened with quiet reserve. Favish, as Ray figured, wasn't paying too much attention.  
  
After they had dropped Favish at his house, Boo's car tumbled on towards Ray's. Ray knew his parents would still be asleep at this time, so sneaking in would be easy. Plus, it was a Saturday so Ray could sleep in if he wanted.  
  
"I was afraid that this would happen", Boo said quietly.  
  
"What?" Ray asked.  
  
"The imp inside the pen. I found him many years ago, a while before you were born. I had no idea how insane he was at the time."  
  
"You mean you knew what it was capable of?"  
  
"Yes. Malvolio's power is only augmented by the hate that his master harbors. It feeds off of despair and sadness and anger. I felt that, when I gave the pen to you, that someday you would be able to reform the bastard. Pardon my language."  
  
"It's okay", Ray said slightly surprised. Boo smiled.  
  
"I never imagined that he would manipulate you the way he did me."  
  
Ray gulped. He wasn't sure if what all Boo was telling him could be taken as fact, but then he remembered the lifeless eyes Malvolio had when he looked at Ray.  
  
"Did you save Alan?" Ray asked out of the blue.  
  
"Almost didn't", Boo replied. "I was walking up towards the house when I saw him.and Malvolio."  
  
"Why didn't you kill Malvolio?"  
  
"Here's your house Raymond", Boo said stopping his car across the street from Ray's house. As Ray got out, Boo added:  
  
"I'm not sure what level of power Malvolio is at, but it would do you-and your family-a world of good to get rid of that pen. What I did was just neutralize him temporarily. You'll have to do the rest."  
  
"How do I get rid of it?" Ray asked.  
  
"It's not really anyone's place to kill things", Boo said. "That's the most I can suggest Raymond. I'll be by later to check up on you." With that, Boo went in the direction of the town, leaving Ray to walk carefully back to his house. He climbed the rosebush fence and, as carefully as possible, pulled open his window, tumbling inside his room. He woke up Theodore Roosevelt, he looked over at Ray then went back to sleep.  
  
"Sorry Ted", Ray apologized changing out of his clothes and back into his pajamas. He looked at the clock. It was almost 5:30 in the morning, yet the sun was on the rise. Ray didn't even pull his bedcovers over himself, instead collapsing on top of the bed and falling asleep immediately.  
  
br  
  
It was around three in the afternoon when Ray walked silently towards overpass. There were no cars running back and forth at this time. In his hand, he held the pink pen. Malvolio's home. He didn't know if the imp was inside, and found he no longer cared. If this was the way things had to be, Ray decided, then so be it.  
  
He looked over the edge of the overpass, which overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. Looking one last time at the pen in his hand, he chucked it out towards the ocean as hard as he could. He watched it as it plopped and bobbled up before finally sinking to the ocean floor. 


	4. Chapter 4

iDecember 1970  
  
Malvolio wafted across the rooftops of Morrisville's neighborhoods. He was hunting, deprived of his source of power.  
  
His black heart filled with rage. Rage for the old man. And rage for the boy.  
  
He stopped at a small, two story home and fluttered almost noiselessly towards the window. This was the home of Dr. David Francis Stantz and his wife Carolyn, where he and his children lived, slept, laughed, and played. Not a care in the world to bother them.  
  
But Malvolio knew and remembered that the family had endured a personal loss: the oldest boy, Carl, had been convicted of assault and attempted robbery. Instead of being thoroughly punished for his crime, the oldest Stantz boy was instead sent to a reform school, where the men teach the boys how to be soldiers.  
  
That is what his "master" had told him. And from the brief conversations he had had with Raymond Stantz, there was no doubt that the loss had been felt deeply.  
  
Because of the gloom that had wrapped itself around Raymond, Malvolio thought he had found the perfect avatar to restore him to power, so that he may have exacted his revenge against the old man. But the boy Raymond had been too weak-hearted to have held the same ideals that he had. No doubt a goody-goody.  
  
The old man had also been the wrinkle in his plans as well, saving the life of the other boy and weakening Malvolio as well, confining him back to that infernal tesseract within the pen. In the process, Malvolio lost his avatar as Raymond tried to get rid of him.  
  
"How unfortunate", the demon thought to itself, "that he'll never learn he cannot destroy me that easily."  
  
In front of him, he noticed the Stantz family having a quiet moment together, as they were decorating their Christmas tree. Malvolio sneered mockingly at them.  
  
The father was busy trying to untangle his daughter from the lights that surrounded her. She laughed as he sighed in exasperation at the frustration of it all.  
  
The mother was hanging her own decorations that had a tinge of the Celtic culture about them.  
  
And his enemy, the boy Raymond, was sitting in a small corner of the room watching it all, oblivious Malvolio's eyes. The boy was smiling and laughing with his family. He was actually having a good time.  
  
Yes, Malvolio's hatred for the boy grew. He wanted to kill the boy. But not now. There would be time for that eventually. After all, there were other, more personal losses that can kill a man spiritually but not physically./i  
  
. . .  
  
Ray could hardly believe how exceedingly close to the Christmas holidays it was. Yet, even more so for the fact that Carl was coming home.  
  
The first few weeks after he had been sent off to St. Martin's Academy (a military academy in Albany), were the toughest for Ray's family. His father tried not show his sadness by engulfing himself more and more into his practice, coming home late from the city that Ray hardly saw his father except on Sunday. When he did come home at late hours, he would be found asleep in his study, fully clothed and mumbling words like "sartorius transverses the patella" and "the deltoid is medially connected to the upper forearm". Often, Carolyn would put a cover over her husband as he slept and kiss him on the forehead. For her, the time had been also been rough.  
  
Ray noticed how quieter she had become, especially when she prepared dinner. She had always been a bit chatty when cooking but now she barely spoke a word. She didn't even watch her soap operas anymore, opting instead to immerse herself in the cleaning of the house. She never cleaned Carl's room, a sad reminder that Carl hated having his room tidied by anyone other than himself.  
  
Jean took the weirdness in the house pretty well. Without an older sibling to compete with, she began to award herself her parent's attention. Often, she would regale her mother with stories of what happened at school and at Mrs. Corrigan's house, but Ray knew his mom wasn't listening. She was off somewhere else.  
  
For Ray, he didn't do much himself to keep his mind off of Carl. At school, word had spread that he and Alan Favish had actually met the ghost of Powell Mansion. Ray had a feeling that Favish's friends had probably spread the rumor around that Ray had run out before the allotted time. In fact, that very Monday, Ray was ready to face his class and be called a chicken.  
  
But didn't quite happen that way; Favish had, it seemed, retold his experience with the ghost of Powell Mansion. Nobody, not even Elaine, believed him. Even James Corrigan, the kid whose hair began to turn gray after he'd spent a night in the house, didn't buy Favish's story.  
  
What surprised Ray the most was the Favish hadn't bothered to mention Ray's name in all of this. Perhaps, as Ray thought, Favish wanted people to believe that he had really faced the ghost all by himself, in order to make himself look good. It backfired completely.  
  
What had mostly occupied Ray's mind was the whereabouts of Malvolio. He had thrown the pen away, knowing hardly anybody fished where he threw it. But what bothered Ray was what if Malvolio came back? What would he do then? And what would he, Ray, do whenever Malvolio did come back? Call Boo Radley?  
  
"Hey Ray", David said, interrupting Ray's thoughts. "You want to help free your sister over here?"  
  
"Sure Dad", said Ray going over to his father and sister. Jean was standing in a box marked LIGHTS. His father was shaking his head and laughing at the same time.  
  
"Why don't we just plug Jeannie in instead?" Ray suggested sarcastically. Both his father and Jean laughed. His mother did not.  
  
"What a horrible thought Ray", Carolyn scolded sternly. "We might as well put her on top of the tree."  
  
Whatever was going on inside Ray's head, he did not want to show it in front of his family. What was important now was that he was here with them and they were about to be together again.  
  
It was at that moment that the phone rang. David got up to answer it, leaving Ray to handle his sister.  
  
"Hello?" he said into the receiver. Ray watched his father's expression change several times, as his face showed an expression of puzzlement.  
  
"How'd this happen? Uh-huh, well I can imagine that. Alright I'll ask Carolyn if she wants to go. Thanks, bye."  
  
"Who was that honey?" asked Carolyn as David hung up the phone and walked back to the living room.  
  
"Robinson, my intern at the office. Apparently, he got some tickets to go the Alhambra dinner theater production of A Christmas Carol tonight and something came up suddenly and he can't go."  
  
"So what'd he need with you?"  
  
"He didn't want to waste the tickets, so he asked me if I wanted them."  
  
"That sounds swell Pop", Ray said. He knew that his father and mother rarely went out on evenings to themselves and well deserved for this one.  
  
"So what do you say hon?" David asked Carolyn. She thought about it for a few seconds before asking:  
  
"Do you think that Ray and Jean will be all right by themselves for three hours?"  
  
"Absolutely. I mean, Ray's getting old enough where he doesn't necessarily need us to hold his hand every step of the way. He and Jean have to learn responsibility and I trust them both."  
  
Ray swelled with pride at his father's words, and tried to stifle a tear back.  
  
"Well," Carolyn said, "I guess. When does it start?"  
  
"In about two hours. That gives us plenty of time to get ready."  
  
As his parents walked upstairs, Ray knew that things were certainly beginning to be all right with the world. The drama that had proceeded in the months before tonight seemed a million years ago to him.  
  
. . .  
  
"Now remember Ray, do not open the door for anybody you don't recognize and if something bad happens call Jack Fuhrman."  
  
"I will Mom", Ray said obediently to his mother and nodded his head.  
  
"And no fighting with your sister."  
  
"Yes Mom."  
  
"Alright. Be a good boy and we'll be back before you go to bed." Carolyn hugged Ray by the neck and kissed him on the cheek, then did the same to Jean.  
  
"Enjoy the show!" he said to them both as they drove off in his father's gray Sedan. Ray noticed it was beginning to snow. As Ray began to step back inside the Stantz house, he felt a small shiver run up his spine as the air around him suddenly got colder. He shrugged it off, thinking little of it.  
  
"Hey Jeannie, want to play a game?" he said coming inside.  
  
"Sure, what one?"  
  
"The Amazing Awesome Adventures of Captain Steel", Ray said grinning as he pulled it out of the top of the closet. It was a faded box with a superhero on the front seemingly beating up several criminals. "You can be Sinestro and I'll be Cap and..."  
  
"That's alright", Jean said suddenly yawning. "I feel sleepy all of a sudden. I think I'll go on and go to bed." As Jean began climbing the stairs to her bedroom, Ray could not help but giggle behind her and turn on the television. At least he wouldn't have to share the television that night. Just in case she did come back down, he began to set up the board game.  
  
. . .  
  
David and Carolyn Stantz had been down the road a little bit when David first saw the black dog.  
  
"You know honey", Carolyn had said earlier, "You really ought to have your headlights checked. They look a little dim."  
  
"Yeah, I think you're right. I didn't imagine it'd be this dark out", David replied. "Heck, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that that wasn't a lump in the middle of the road."  
  
"That's not a stump David!" Carolyn said as they edged closer. "That looks like a---"  
  
"A DOG!" David shouted as he slammed on the brakes. Sure enough, in the middle of the road, there was a small black dog walking in the way of David Stantz's Sedan. It looked up sadly, and, rather than try to walk faster, it continued at its snail's pace.  
  
David barely missed hitting it, but realized very quickly that he was beginning to lose control of the car. Ice had formed on the road that now made it very slick. David tried pressing hard on his brakes, trying to gain some kind of control over it, but the car continued to skid amid Carolyn's screaming.  
  
"Don't worry Carol!" David said, trying to calm his wife down. "I've got it all under con-" He didn't finish his sentence as his Sedan wrapped itself around the trunk of a huge oak tree.  
  
David groggily got out of the car, blood dripping from a wound in his head. Passing in and out of consciousness, he fell down several times.  
  
"Are you all right Carolyn?" He asked as he went over to his wife's side of the car. He heard her groan, which lifted his hopes a little.  
  
"Yeah Davy", she said, her native accent creeping back into her tongue. "I'm fine, but---I can't seem to get out of this damned seatbelt."  
  
"Okay whatever you do, don't panic. I'll be over there." Suddenly, he felt something brush up against the side of his leg, making him jump a little bit. Looking down, his fear quickly turned to anger as he realized that it was the old black dog that David had tried to miss.  
  
"Get the hell away from me!" he shouted at it and kicked the dog in its stomach, making it whimper. The dog ran away from David towards a small clearing on the other side of the road.  
  
"What was that David?" Carolyn asked.  
  
"That effing dog", he said angrily as he began pulling on his wife's car door. "Ugnh. Your door seems a bit stuck. Maybe if I broke the window, I could pull you out from there."  
  
"Please hurry David, I think I smell the gas leaking out." For Dr. David Stantz, these words the last words that he would ever hear from his wife in this world again.  
  
It all happened quickly: David felt a hot flash sear his right cheek that quickly brought him to his knees. The next thing he saw was a blinding light that threw him back several feet. He landed in the trunk of another tree, which knocked him out. When he came to, he was greeted by a terrible sight.  
  
His gray Sedan, the very car many of his friends had ridiculed as a "deathtrap" was nothing more now than a soldering wreck. And his beloved wife, the very light of his life, was gone forever. He walked a few towards it, his left arm broken limping slightly at his side and his right leg dragging behind him. Blood was pouring both from his head wound and the one on his cheek. But then he stopped and fell towards the ground to his knees, and bowed his head. He was crying, cursing, and pounding the dirt with his good arm.  
  
"Why?" was all he could muster himself to ask the loneliness around him, not expecting an answer.  
  
"Because", answered a voice, "it had to be done." David looked slowly to the direction of the voice, and was both surprised and afraid of what he saw. Illuminated by the light of the fire from the car, David could see that it was a very large figure, draped in the darkness that surrounded them both. The figure was wearing a fedora that reminded David of the one that the Shadow wore in those old pulps.  
  
"You look surprised Dr. Stantz", it said grinning at him. "I just killed your wife and soon I will kill your son and all you can do now is continue to stare at me."  
  
David felt his anger flare up as he slowly pushed himself from the ground with his good leg and arm to face the creature.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" he said slowly, becoming more incensed at the creature's continuous grin. "You did this—this, /i to my..." He couldn't even bring himself to say his wife's name, turning away from the creature so that he wouldn't give it any pleasure to see him cry.  
  
"That's right Dr. Stantz, hate me with all you can muster! Pleasure yourself with the thought of my impending death! Let yourself relish with all your rage! Be..."  
  
"SHUT THE F UP!" David shouted at it and, for reasons he quite didn't know why, propelled himself at it, hoping that it was solid enough for him to wrap his hands around its throat.  
  
It was, much to David's delight. Being a doctor, he didn't have to guess where the creature's throat was, even if it was taller than he. He poured every ounce of strength he had left in his good arm into his hand as he squeezed, hoping to crush the larynx of the creature.  
  
"What else have got to say, now?" David asked it, tears streaming down his face, a smile carved onto his face. "You have killed my wife, but you won't ever touch my son you sonovabitch! I won't let you live that long!"  
  
David heard the creature struggling for breath, as it tried to push David off of itself.  
  
"Come on, say some thing else now! You wanted my hatred now you've got it!" Then, to David's sudden surprise, the creature's eyes turned towards him. In between gasps for breath it said:  
  
"Thank you, because that is what I wanted."  
  
Raising both its hands, it fired hot ectoplasmic energy at David that wrapped itself around his head. David fell off of the creature, landing hard on the ground scraping at the spell that was upon his skull. The creature watched in sick awe as David writhed and withered on the ground, struggling for air in much the same way that the creature had only moments earlier.  
  
David gasped as the ball of ectoplasm slid off of his head, revealing its damage: his skin had burned badly, to the point where facial muscles were now translucent. His hair was gone and his had gone bloodshot.  
  
"I shall let your son know how much of a valiant fighter you were", the creature said, preparing itself for another attack. David knew he could nothing, but instead closed his eyes and awaited his final fate, as a bright light enveloped itself around him...  
  
. . .  
  
Halfway across Morrisville, while watching one of his Dr. Crowley movies, Ray suddenly fell out of his chair. He didn't know what had happened; all of a sudden, his entire body felt as if it were engulfed in a searing pain that he had never known before. As quickly as it had begun, the pain was over. He'd have to tell his father about that when he got home, Ray thought, thinking it was one of those muscle spasms that run all over ones body. Yawning, Ray decided to turn in for the night.  
. . .  
  
It was about two in the morning when Ray heard the doorbell ring. Sitting up immediately, Ray knew it was weird for anyone to be knocking at this late hour, but then remembered that it often happened whenever the coroner, Mr. Doolan, needed Ray's father.  
  
Ray laid himself back down on his bed, knowing his father would soon been making his way downstairs to answer it. Strangely enough, he didn't hear anybody get up to go to the door. Getting out of his bed, Ray quickly went to his parents' room and peered inside. Their beds were still made. Checking on Jean, Ray went downstairs to see who was at the front door.  
  
"Who is it?" he asked.  
  
"Jack Fuhrman", said the voice on the other side mournfully. "Can I come in?"  
  
Ray unlocked the door; there, standing on the stoop of the Stantz home, was Captain Fuhrman. Despite the darkness, Ray noticed that the Captain was not wearing his customary hat but was instead holding it one hand.  
  
"Is something wrong Mr. Fuhrman?" Ray asked as the Captain walked inside. Ray turned on one of the lamps near where the family Christmas tree was. He quickly saw that the Captain looked suddenly older than the last time he had seen him: his face actually looked etched with sadness and he had not bothered to trim his quickly growing mustache.  
  
"Yes there is Ray", the Captain said with great sorrow. "It's about your parents."  
  
Ray sat down on his father's footstool and listened. "Are they all right?" he asked. The Captain turned away from Ray for a second, as if he didn't want to answer right away.  
  
"Are they all right?" Ray asked again.  
  
"Your father drove a gray Sedan, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes sir, he did."  
  
"We found it—well what remains of it—about ten miles from your house, down by Washington Woods. Wrapped around the trunk of on oak tree."  
  
Ray breathed in heavily, hoping against hope that the next words Captain Fuhrman spoke wouldn't be what he thought.  
  
"Were they okay?" Ray asked, nearly stammering.  
  
"No", Captain Fuhrman said plainly. "Ray, I'm sorry to be the one to say this. Your parents are dead." 


	5. Chapter 5

A Boy Named Ray---Chapter 5

Author's Note: This is very much overdue. I started this series two years ago and have now, two years later, decided to finish it. Nostalgia's sake or just the fact that I want to complete it all now. I don't know. I plan on re-writing the whole thing in the near future, but for now, here's the next to final installment in what kicked off my fanfiction career and led me to where I am today.

_Ever have the feeling that you're so overwhelmed...you just want to give up everything?_

_Sometimes...you just want things to be so right for you that when things are so wrong, no matter what you do...it'll never be right._

_Ever._

_The thing you want so much slips right through your fingers. But sometimes...you realize that you already have something...and then realize you don't want it anymore._

_So you let it go._

Ray was knocked back against the alley wall by a blast of protoplasm. The wind left his body momentarily as he struggled to get up.

He heard laughing. Someone was laughing at him.

"Poor, poor Raymond", the voice said. "I gave you a chance. You and I could have done such wonderful things together. And yet, you had to choose the path of righteousness, of good. Of justice." Malvolio sneered as Ray got to his feet, slightly dazed. The Ghostbuster could feel his cracked ribs by tenderly touching his side. Breathing was painful. It was if someone had done a tap-dancing number on his innards. He did not know how much longer he could keep this up.

"Got...to keep going."

He pointed his neutrona wand at Malvolio's looming form. Deep down inside, he could feel the old fear that had predominated much of his childhood as he remembered his last encounter with the demonic Malvolio...

December 1970

It had been a scant two weeks since the deaths of the Stantzes. Many in Morrisville had turned out for the funeral, paying their final respects to David and Carolyn.

What was on the minds of many was the future of their three children. Carl had declined to attend the funeral. He'd said the thought of seeing the only two people he had ever loved in this world dead would be too much for him to bear, as he was beginning his second semester at Westchester Military Academy and, according to his proctors at least, was in line to be promoted to the rank of lieutenant, and didn't the extra stress and grief it would have undoubtedly have brought.

Standing at his parents gravesite the day after the funeral, that was inconsequential to Ray. He should have been there. He should have stood with Jean and himself at the service. He should have planted the flower on their parents' graves himself, instead of "sending" his respects via USPS. That's what made Ray angry at his brother. The realizition was that Carl had never quite forgiven his parents for sending him away. And Ray knew this, as did some people but, out of respect to the family name, never spoke this out loud.

In between his thoughts, Ray felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up. It was Captain Fuhrman, Elaine's father and lead of the Morrisville Police Department.

"Hello Ray", he said. This surprised Ray. In most of his earlier meetings with the Captain, Fuhrman's voice had been rather gruff, yet had a sense that he meant no harm unless indicated. Now, as Ray was facing him, the gruffness was gone altogether, replaced by a soft rasp. It wasn't easy to forget that Fuhrman had been close friends with his father and mother.

Now, it was hard for Fuhrman, as much as it was for Ray, to realize that they were both gone.

"Hello sir", Ray replied. He returned his gaze back to his parent's tombstones. There was an uneasy silence that passed between the both of them for several seconds. Finally, Fuhrman spoke.

"Ray, I'm so sorry for what happened", he said. Ray could not get over the soft raspiness of the Captain's voice. It wasn't like him at all.

"Me too", droned Ray.

"How've you been these last couple of days?"

Ray wanted to say, _How do you think I feel? I just buried my mom and dad, my brother's a shithead, and..._

"I feel alright."

Fuhrman nodded. "Good. I was hoping that you would say that."

More silence. It was beginning to make Ray uncomfortable.

"Listen, Raymond." This caught Ray off guard. Rarely did anybody refer to him by "Raymond" much anymore. This only made the situation even more grave for both of them.

"I don't like being the bearer of such matters. I much rather wish what I have to say and do on somebody else. If I knew they could handle it, they could **have **it."

"What is it?" Ray asked. He was quickly not liking where this was going.

Fuhrman scratched the little stubble growing on the tip of his chin. He hadn't shaved in several days.

"I never liked telling kids to wait when they're older for us adults to tell them stuff", he said. "Cause we never do. It's just as bad as outright lying. But you're not like most kids, Ray, and I hope you'll understand what I have to do is in your best interests."

Fuhrman gulped.

"The state considers matters such as these to be of grave importance. It's always been in the interest of the children. Your father's sister, Lois, wanted to take in both of you, but as she is currently unemployed and her current finances are...a little less than it would be to support two children..." He choked back the last words, hoping against hope of not having to say them.

"There's a family that wants to take you in, the Kendricks. They're a new couple that just moved here and..."

Ray backed away from Captain Fuhrman. "_New couple_? _Take me in_? What are you saying?"

"Ray, I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be. It's out of my hands."

They both stared at each other, silence between the both of them, coupled with standing in a graveyard. Ray very much wanted to run, as fast he could, anywhere. He knew it would it be useless if he even tried; Fuhrman would catch him in a few seconds.

Finally, Ray couldn't hold it back any longer. He felt the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. Captain Fuhrman walked over to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. It was something Ray needed at that moment.

"Why?" he asked, choking on the words between the tears. "Why did they have to die?"

From the moment Ray stepped through the door of the recently restored Ducth manor on 121 Wolper Lane, he knew his life wouldn't be the same ever again. Holding his meager belongings from the life he knew (which comprimised of two cardboard boxes marked _Ray's_ in crude marker. His pets were sold to a pet store in town, as he had been told the Kendricks were allergic to the types of animals Ray found interesting.) Ray (along with the dour Captain Fuhrman) traversed up the winding stairway towards the Kendricks's house, a Dutch colonial manor not common in Morrisville, but not rare in upstate New York.

The wife, Franny Kendricks, was the first to greet the duo. She was slight, smaller than Ray's mother had been (but then again, Caroyln Stantz stood a good foot taller than her husband). A true Irishwoman, she had flaming red hair, and, as Ray saw, freckles that dotted her otherwise homely features. A dumpy women, she opened the door for Ray and the Captain, her stomach jiggled a little bit. Ray did all he could to hold back a snigger.

"Good afternoon Captain!" she said brightly. Fuhrman nodded his head and tipped his fedora.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Kendricks", the Captain said. The gruff and growl was back in his voice. "This is the child I was telling you about. Ray, this is Mrs. Franny Kendricks."

"Your new mother!" Mrs. Kendricks said, placing a hand on Ray's head ruffling his dishevled auburn hair a little bit. Ray recoiled a little bit from the woman's touch. He didn't feel right about the situation at all. He got a similar feeling from the Captain, as he felt the older man bristle at the woman's audacity at proclaiming that she could replace the spark of life that was Carolyn MacMillian Stantz.

But, Fuhrman let the thought go. "Don't be rude Ray. Say hello."

"Hello", Ray said without feeling or effort. He was sort of glad when he noticed an offended look on the face of Mrs. Kendricks. Bending down so that she was nose to nose with the child, she said:

"Little boys should show their elders a little more respect."

"Sorry", replied Ray.

"Sorry, what?"

"Sorry. _ma'am_."

"Better. We'll make a delightful young man out of you yet!" Turning back towards the Captain, she said, "Now, is there anything else I need to do pertaining to young Raymond?"

"No, no", Fuhrman responded. "I think you and Marty have gotten everything all settled downtown. If there's anything further I can do..."

"No, I think we're done here." She looked at Ray. "Are you ready to come inside Raymond?"

For a brief moment, Ray thought that he might actually have a chance at running. His eyes darted down the sloping sidewalk that led up to the Kendricks's house. If he shoved his boxes at Captain Fuhrman, he might actually be able to have a chance at rolling down the grassy knoll that lay adjacent to the house, down the street, and a good distance before the Captain caught up with him.

_Yeah right, and I'm Sean Connery_, he thought to himself. In retrospect, he would have said anything other than:

"Yes. _Ma'am_." That seemed to make Mrs. Kendricks's day as she squealed with joy and beamed.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. Putting her hand behind Ray's back, she ushered him inside the house, closing the door in the Captain's face and closing a door on the life Ray had known.

As Mrs. Kendricks shut the door, he swore he heard, in the distance as a cold bitter wind swept through, the sound of laughter. It wasn't the type of laugh that someone would share with a friend. He turned his head slightly to see if he could find the source. There was nothing there.

Life with the Kendricks, for Ray, eroded the moment that door closed.

After Captain Fuhrman had dropped him off at the home, the wife, Franny, proved to be every bit as strange as Ray had felt. She put the boxes that contained his entire Captain Steel collection (since the book's publication in 1964), his clothes, and even some of his memorabilia into the attic. Ray watched as she climbed up stairs that led to that dank area of any home, humming a tune that Ray guessed was from when the Andrews Sisters were a trio.

"Why are you putting my clothes and stuff up there?" he asked innoncently. The ferocity with which Mrs. Kendrick zoomed down the ladder and grabbing Ray's throat shocked and confused the boy.

"_I've had enough of your mouth, boy!_" the woman said between gritted teeth. She was slowly increasing her grip, making breathing difficult for Ray.

"Please...stop..." he choked. "I...can't breath..."

"_Say it_."

Ray looked at her bewilderd. He could tell that she knew he was confused and a burst of strength from her arm, Ray thought his esophagus was going to collapse.

"_Say it_", she repeated again, "_or I'll choke you to death, chop you up, and feed you to Old Man Flannigan's dogs!_"

"P--p--please", Ray wheezed. Each breath was becoming more strained, like someone taking an icicle and stabbing him in the heart. "Ma'am..."

Franny released her grip, and smiled that same lizard grin that Ray had seen earlier when Captain Fuhrman stood by his side. Falling to the ground, Ray sucked in as much air as he could. She returned back to her business upstairs in the attic, staying there for a few minutes before climbing back down again. Ray was still on the ground. The air tasted sweet.

"First rule of the house hon", Mrs. Kendricks said, lifting Ray's head up by the chin by her index finger. "_Respect your elders_." Had he enough strength, Ray would have spat in her face. He remembered once hearing a tale that you can the lion out of the fight, but you can't take the fight out of the lion.

Mortimer "Marty" Kendricks arrived at his new home at five o'clock that afternoon, as the sun was setting. He was an imposing man, twice the size of his wife, with a doughy face and beady, dark eyes that sat like two chocolate chip cookies in his face. He was a man of thinning hair, who tried to cover it up with a hat similar to the one that Captain Fuhrman wore. The most hair he probably had was in his bushy mustache, which almost obscured the lower part of his lip.

Ray sat in the parlor room, looking out the window when his "father" arrived "home". He entered like a warmed over Fred Flintstone.

"I'M HOOOOME!" he bellowed. Ray had seen him park his '38 Plymouth in a driveway that neighbored his. A felony act, Ray surmised, although he remembered hardly anyone lived in this neighborhood for years. Perhaps that maybe why Kendricks got the house so cheaply.

His wife ran up to him, tying a KISS THE COOK...SHE DESERVES IT! apron around her plump waist. They embraced in a manner that would have made Cary Grant and Grace Kelly laugh and want to show them how its done properly: Marty's were shorter than his wife's, thus he was only able to reach halfway around Franny's back to hug her, but Franny looked as though she had the ability to pick her obviously heftier husband off his feet. They kissed sloppily, not the way Ray had seen it done in the movies. _If that's how really done_, he thought, _then I don't ever _want _to fall in love_.

Knowing that he if he didn't get out of his chair, the consequences, as he had come to understand, would be dire. After putting the last items that reminded Ray of his former life in the attic (with one detour into the basement), Mrs. Kendricks had spent the better part of the afternoon explaining to Ray what the rules of living with her and her husband would be like:

1. Respect your elders.

2. Do not question either Marty or Franny.

3. Do as you're told

"And if you don't adhere to those rules", the wife had said, "then I'll make sure that you take a one-way visit to New York City's Orphanages!" She looked at Ray as a shocked expression crossed his face. She smiled. "You wouldn't like that, now would you?" she added.

"So is this the little scamp that Jackie was telling us about?" Marty Kendricks strolled up to Ray and looked down on him as if he were some sort of weed. With his hands on his hips, he resembled a giant of a man when compared to the short Ray.

"Marty Kendricks", said the man, his voice booming with pomposity and supeirority. He held out his hand. Ray looked at it for several lingering seconds before he shook it. Kendricks, taking the boy's hand, gripped it tightly in his own meat cleaver of a hand that Ray thought he was going to crush it. Grinning, Kendricks said:

"Hmmm, a bit soft. But we'll fix that, won't we _son_?"

Ray couldn't take it anymore. Holding his ginger hand, he said, "I'm not your son."

This caught both Kendricks off guard. Franny straddled up next to Ray and, trying to diffuse the situation, said, "What do you mean? Of course you're our son. We're your parents and you're our child. It's that simple."

"NO!" Ray shouted. "My parents were David and Carolyn Stantz! Not you two!"

A hot, burning sensation and a bright light came upon Ray as fell to the carpet. Franny had slapped him across the face.

"Shut up you stupid brat!" she said. The side of Ray's face had the crimson streaks of her fingernails. One of them was bleeding. Marty took off his hat and coat and hung them on the coat rack. "Hard on the boy, ain't you Fran?" he said in a causal manner.

Still on the floor, Ray touched his throbbing face. In between the pain, he noticed that Marty Kendricks had forgotten to close the door. He'd had enough. Making his move, he bolted towards the door.

"Grab him!" Franny shouted as Ray sprinted underneath Marty's legs. Finding himself outside, he immediatley initiated his previous plan and, getting into the "tuck and roll" posistion, rolled down the hill that led to the street. He could hear the Kendricks shouting after him, and, knowing very much that people of their heights and weight would not dare repeat what he was doing, would have to go the long way.

Ray slammed into a rabble of garbage cans, but was not hurt. He still had time. Quickly running down the road, he wanted to put as much distance between the Kendricks and himself as possible.

He did not want to be there. That was not his home. They were not his parents.

His parents were kind and loving. They did not dare lay a hand on him, or even on his siblings. His father had a full head of hair and his mother was almost the perfect clone of Carol Brady. They had a fairly new car...

_Oh God_, Ray thought, slowing down a little bit. The final truth was beginning to come upon him. His parents were dead and there was nothing he could do to bring them back.

No matter where he was going to try and go to, he was not going to shake the mental pictures he was having of his parents last, fleeting moments of life.

"Come back here son! Don't make this any harder than it has to be!" Ray heard Marty Kendricks's voice behind him. He wasn't far. It was obvious to him that the old man had decided to take the car and tail the younger boy.

Getting his second wind, Ray made a mad dash up the street. He didn't know where it led, exactly (he'd never been in this area) but there had to be some place to hide.

_Some place to go_.

He rounded a corner quickly. Ray noticed how familiar it all felt for some reason, as if he had been there before. He shook the feeling off, knowing that things like "deja vu" were, for his father at least, superstitious nonsense.

"Live for the now", his father had said. "And worry about tomorrow later."

_He said that_, Ray remembered, tears again welling up in his eyes as he began running again. _He said that and left_. Suddenly, it occured to him that it was _his _fault his parents died: he'd pushed them out the door that night. He'd said it was alright to go out. He'd said everything except what he should have said.

_Don't go_.

But it was too late. And he knew it. Ray thought that maybe he deserved everything that was happening to him at this moment. He considered, for a few brief moments, to turn around and go back to the Kendricks. What would happen next would be his own punishment.

"Going somewhere, Master Stantz?"

Ray stopped. For the first time that day, he'd heard a warm, kindly voice come from someone he knew rather well.

"You're in trouble again, aren't you Ray?" Boo Radley asked as he brought Ray a pitcher of his lemonade. He'd seen the boy running down the road, running, where he figured, towards the mill that still kept a lot of Morrisville's population employed. Offering Ray a ride, he did not think that the first place the child wanted to go was back to Boo's comic's store.

"Yes sir", Ray replied. He was leaning against the railing on the roof of Boo's comics store, staring out at the setting sun. He wondered to himself how long the Kendricks would wait until they called Captain Fuhrman.

"I see", Boo said calmly, placing the pitcher on a tray between himself and Ray. He pulled out a clay pipe and lit it, inhaling long and deep, letting the smoke escape from his nostrils. "Bad trouble?"

"Oh yeah."

The two of them said nothing for a few minutes. Finally, it was Ray who broke the silence.

"I killed them."

Boo raised an eyebrow as he puffed on his pipe. Calmly, he replied with, "You didn't kill them. It was an accident."

"NO!" Ray shouted. "I told my mom and dad to go out! I said to them that it was all right, that I could handle taking care of Jean by myself! My dad left me that responsibility, but he didn't think to save his own life!"

"Perhaps", Boo said. "But do you honestly think your mother and father blame _you _for what happened to them?"

This caught Ray off guard. He had never thought of that. But it didn't change matters.

"They're still dead and it's my fault."

"Stop saying that", Boo said reliting his pipe. "What happens happens. We do not have the power to stop whatever occurs in this lifetime, except dust each other off and continue living. Isn't that what your father always believed in?"

"He did", Ray said. "He thought that nobody should dwell on things that had happened to them in the past. He always said the past is like a cancer, that it slowly builds up inside of everybody before killing their souls. My dad liked to think that once people understood their past and remembered in a way so that they wouldn't repeat it, he felt that they would become better in their futures."

"Your father was right", Boo said. Sighing, he continued.

"Ray, I am going to tell you something that may change the course of your own future."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like your father said: confront your past, understand it, and live on. But I want you to promise me something first though."

"Okay."

"And I don't mean just a _promise_. I want your word, man to man. I want you to promise that what happens after today, tomorrow, or any other day, that you never forget what type of man you want to be. Never forget honesty, integrity, and above all, the love you have for others."

Ray didn't quite understand and divided his sight between the sunset and looking at the suddenly hard look in Boo's eyes. The streets were oddly empty, but that was expected, as it was past five. Most people would be home or starting their evening jobs.

Finally, Ray nodded. "You have my word Mr. Radley", he said. Boo smiled wistfully. Sighing once again, he said:

"Ray, your parents did not die in an auto accident."

The news took a while before slamming into Ray like a hammer into his stomach.

"Wh--what do you mean?"

Boo stopped for a few moments, collecting his thoughts, trying to put into words his revelation would undoubtedly have upon young Ray.

"The day after they found your parents car, I went to the scene and found several trace figures of high ectoplasmic energy."

"What's ectoplasm?" Ray asked.

"It's a unique source of power that ghosts and demons have", Boo said. "I have never told you that I used this trace signature to find and trap Malvolio the first time..."

The name felt like poison in Ray's ears as he heard the name.

"Malvolio", Ray said.

"Yes", replied Boo. "His signs were all over the place. I believe he distracted your parents before he killed them."

Suddenly, it all made sense. There had been no remains for the police to find. The car was completely destroyed beyond recognition.

And it all led back to Malvolio.

"I always said that he wouldn't die until his avatar did first", Boo said sadly. "He latched onto you quicker than he did most, Raymond. Why, I don't know. What I do know is that he is now sufficiently powerful enough to the point where trapping him in a tesseract would be an impossible reality."

"We've gotta try", Ray interrupted. Now it was Boo's turn to be surprised.

"_We_?"

"Yes", Ray said slowly. He turned to face Radley. "He killed my parents Boo. He has to die."

Radley looked at Ray and for the first time, Ray noticed that the man's eyes no longer had that twinkle he had known. They were both grave and stern, full of the seriousness with which the two friends found themselves in. Leaning back against the railing, Radley said:

"I'm not sure if I can allow you to do that Ray."

"Why not?"

"Because that might be what Malvolio from us both. I caught him and you weakened him. He would be killing two birds with one stone if he got us both."

"I don't care!" Ray shouted. "I've got nothing here for me anymore! No family, no friends! Who would care if I lived or died!"

Radley grabbed Ray by the shoulder, so that he was face to face with the boy.

"Don't say that again. _Ever_", Radley said. "You do have people that care about you Raymond. In your grief you don't realize it, but you will. Wherever you go in the world, you will have people who will love you and worry whether or not you come home at night. It may not be now, but it will be. Do you understand me?"

Ray turned away. He wasn't going to cry again. He felt ashamed at himself.

Boo Radley's features softened as he hugged Ray. "You've been like a son to me since you moved here, Raymond", he said. "I'll be damned if I let Malvolio get to you. It's my fault that all this happened. And...I've got to finish it."

"But..."

"No buts. Now, I suspect that your foster family has already alerted the good Captain of your disappearance. I want you to go there, stay at home."

"But..."

"Ray, I am being serious. Malvolio cannot harm you if you are in the safety of the Kendricks. Go. _Now_."

The two of them locked eyes. For a brief moment, Ray felt as though Boo was more than just the oddball who owned the comic book store. He felt that Henry Radley was...an uncle maybe? He didn't know. He shook the feeling as he nodded slowly.

"That's a good boy", Radley quipped. The two of them left the roof together. Had a bystander been nearby, one would have supposed that they were really father and son. Family.


End file.
